Can I Quote That?
by The Light of Reason
Summary: From the moment I arrived, I could tell they weren't thrilled to see me; who would want a fan fiction author around? My mission demands the use of charm, humour, and some bribery. It's interview time! The lesson: Don't EVER let a fan girl into your home.
1. Loathe at First Sight

_Disclaimer: I do not own the TMNT. They belong to Nickelodeon._

_So, I've decided that as a fan girl/author, a field trip is in order to the very place where the objects of my fetish reside. Yeah, that means I'm goin' to the lair. WOOHOO! _:D

_I'm writing this because the little maniacal plot bunnies have been hopping nonstop in my head for the past few months to put up something not only funny, but also involving the great fan girl mind. So, this was born!_

_I hope you enjoy it, and now, the show you've all been waiting for…_

TTTTTTTT

_'I can't believe I'm __**here**__! It's like some strange backwards dream, a dream I've wished for my entire life! Alright, just for the past few years, but that is a lifetime in teen years. All I have to do is pull the concealed lever like so and…YES! I'm in!'_

Upon entering the cavernous room, I can't help but gape overtly, craning my neck upward to see the dome-structured ceiling. It's just like I imagined it would be! The large living area is set to my right, occupied by a miscellaneous mixture of equally worn furniture. Two dozen television screens of various sizes and models cover the right-hand wall, their blank screens reflecting the fluorescent overhead lighting. I raise my eyes to the levels above the main area, wondering absently how one would get up there without a ladder. On the edges of the main ring, there are eight darkened pentagonal doors that hint at hidden treasures inside. To the left lies a small kitchen, outfitted with a stove, a sink and an ancient refrigerator. Within the space sits a rectangular table, surrounded by a hodgepodge of chairs. The small green pool is entirely peaceful, its surface glassy smooth and undisturbed. A low bridge arcs over it, connecting the two halves of the lair.

I release a tiny shriek of excitement. Even the bricksare the right shade of red! ...Alright, maybe they aren't _exactly _the same, but cut me a break! This is a fan girl's dream come true!

It's shocking that I even _found_ the turtles' lair, let alone figured out how to get inside. With maps, I'm usually as useful as a sea cucumber. However, it appears that Lady Luck is on my side for once—cue anvil falling from the sky. Just kidding; that only happens in cartoons.

I hungrily take in the interior of the lair a second time, my eye drawn to a human sized figure to the right. It's the practice dummy they use for training, slumped sadly with a considerable chunk out of its shoulder. Wouldn't that be an awesome photo? I draw my camera from my loaded backpack with difficulty, looping an arm around the dummy's shoulders. _'Now, if I just tilt it like this and then angle my head…'_

At the very moment I'm about to snap my photo the turtles exit the dojo. They freeze on their trek down the ramp leading to the main area of the lair and stare, stupefied by the sight of a stranger posing with their practice dummy. I flush, knoing how ridiculous I must look. I guess there are _two_ dummies now.

I straighten up and hide the camera behind my back, throwing the four boys a face-splitting smile.

There are a variety of reactions to my presence, illustrated perfectly on the young men's faces. Mikey resembles someone who has just swallowed a goldfish, his orange mask askew and his bright blue eyes wide with surprise. To his left is Don, his brow furrowed in confusion and his mouth twisted in thought as he slowly lowers the towel in his hand. Leo's eyes are narrowed warily on my face, his hand resting on his katana offensively and his muscles tensed in apprehension. Then there's Raph, an extreme "WTF?" expression on his face and a plastic bottle of water clenched in his hand.

I don't blame them; after all, not many mutant turtles living in the sewers expect to find a strange girl in their home with a large amount of luggage and an apparent obsession with practice dummies. They shine in the epic glow that spills out of the dojo, their expressions different but all _very_ confused. I could die right now, and I'd be totally happy with my last few moments.

"Um…" Leo speaks up uncertainly, "Can we help you?"

I barely hold in a squeal at the sound of his voice, not wanting to come across as a maniac right away. Although, since this is coming from the uninvited stranger who up until a few seconds ago was hugging a practice dummy, that is no longer a concern. I shift my smile from muscle-shattering to friendly and muster all of my control before replying calmly, "Yes. I've wanted to meet you for a while."

Raph's hand flies to his belt and he whips out—to my surprise—a can of pepper spray which he promptly aims at my face. I fling my arms up to shield my eyes but Leo motions for Raph to lower the weapon.

"Don't startle her," he whispers, throwing me a glance, "We just have to get her out of here safely and quickly. No violence." Very subtle, Leo; unfortunately for you, I'm not leaving until I get what I want.

Mikey, who has been staring at me for the past three minutes, smiles and greets, "I'm Mikey. What's your name?"

I would laugh at Leo's look of utter disbelief toward his youngest brother's casualty around strangers, but Mikey has just asked a question that I'm intent on avoiding. I can't tell them my name for it would ruin the mystery around me. In an attempt to stall for time, I "accidentally" drop my handbag and say with feigned dismay, "Oh no!"

I crouch down and meticulously gather the spilled contents, taking extra care to arrange my lip balms in order of colour. After about forty five seconds, Raph finally explodes, "What the hell are ya doin' here?"

Ah, Raph. He's always such a gentleman, not to mention his polite and accommodating nature. I refrain from sharing my sarcastic comment because his abrupt question happens to be my saving grace. Evading Mikey's question, I reply with as much formality as one can with half the contents of her purse scattered across the floor, "I'm a writer, and I am here because I would like an interview with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."

Three of the boys relax. It is only Leo who remains hostile, his carriage more alert than it was when he first saw me. He narrows his eyes to mere slits as he asks suspiciously, "Why do you want to interview us?"

"Don't question her, Leo!" Mikey cuts in hastily, beckoning me forward with two fingers. His voice overly dramatic, he remarks, "_Obviously_ the lady has great taste."

Who knew I could bank on Mikey's conceit? Pleased with my lucky break, I close the distance between us and come to the realization that they really _are_ that short. They stand only two or three inches taller than me, and I'm no skyscraper.

Don clears his throat timidly and begins, "So…"

My insides melt at the sound of his voice and my smile widens as I am face to face with my biggest television crush. Somebody pinch me!

"Who do you write for?" he inquires innocently and my insides suddenly solidify again. He just had to ask that, didn't he? Stupid genius… hey, that's an oxymoron!

Swallowing to moisten my mouth, I fib smoothly, "I'm…an independent writer." Take _that_, Don!

"What do you write?" he asks, his curiosity roused by my vague reply.

Shoot. I fidget with my fingers, wrestling with the fact that I have to tell them the real reason why I'm here. I wish my conscience would stop telling me to do the right thing, it's so _annoying_.

Inhaling a deep breath, I reluctantly admit, "I'm a Fan Fiction author."

The alarm is visible in the expressions that simultaneously appear on each turtle's face following my confession. It's quite comical and I momentarily entertain the idea of retrieving my camera to take a photo. After a second's deliberation, I decide against it. I'll get some pictures when they aren't looking.

Mikey's shoulders fall and he groans, "Aw man, I thought we got rid of 'em all!" Apparently, there have been more authors like myself running around the sewers. Where were they when I got lost for two hours?

"Figures," Raph mutters, looking at me with great distaste, and he assumes his previous offensive position with the can of pepper spray in hand.

Don's disgust is that of one who has brushed elbows with the enemy and he says more to himself than anyone else, "I _knew_ I should have vamped up the security system."

Leo's look of suspicion has been replaced by one of annoyance and he sighs exasperatedly. His voice commanding, he orders adamantly, "You have to leave."

Whoa, whoa, whoa! That's not part of the plan!

"W-wait, what?" I stammer, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. When the statement hits me fully, my eyes widen and I object too loudly, "NO! Please let me stay?"

His face set in a frown, Leo replies in a stony voice, "No."

"Please?" I appeal again, adjusting my facial expression so it's more pitiful and less crazed.

This time, Don replies firmly, "No."

Darn it. I give Raph my best I'm-totally-not-a-weird-fan-girl smile and plead, "Please?"

"No," he snaps, and I frown, my eyebrows furrowing and my lips pressing together.

Okay, my last resort is Mikey. I put on a slightly sad but hopeful expression and look him directly in the eye, my voice softer as I ask, "Please?"

After a moment's hesitation, Mikey gives his verdict: "No."

Luckily, I am not too proud to beg and grovel. I take in a huge breath and chant, "Please please please please please please please please please please—"

"She's almost as bad as Mikey," Raph remarks as I continue my mantra of 'please'.

Thanks to my good breath control, I last over a minute, closing with a final drawn-out, "Pleeeeeeeaaassssse?"

The brothers exchange thoughtful looks with each other and for a split second I think I've worn them down.

My hopes are dashed when they reply forcefully in unison, "NO."

That's not good. Well I'll just stand here, then. It's not like they can _make_ me move.

Suddenly, Raph steps forward and slings me over his shoulder with as much care as if I was a sack of potatoes, handbag and all.

I stand corrected; they _can _make me move.

As I am jostled by Raph's footfalls, I reassess the mistaken notion that being carried by a guy is romantic. Then again, perhaps it's assumed that when the man carries you, you're upright. In my present position, I have an excellent view of the tiny patterns on Raph's shell as he carries me to the exit.

With a final desperate motion, I latch onto the door frame firmly, using all of my strength to hold on. Raph jerks in surprise when he discovers that I've stopped his smooth disposal job and begins to tug, trying to force me out the door. Leo comes over to help Raph in his struggle, and my knuckles whiten on the door frame as I tighten my grip, refusing to budge.

It is then that Master Splinter walks in. As we all know, first impressions are important. So imagine stepping out of your bedroom with the intent of watching your favourite soap opera with a cup of tea and finding your sons trying to muscle a strange girl out of your home while she hangs on to the doorframe for dear life.

Small lines crinkle between his dark eyes and the soft spoken rat scolds sharply, "My sons, where is your hospitality? Be kind to our guest."

My hero! Turning my hand, I agree, "Yeah!" I'm glad that _someone_ here is willing to stick up for me.

Leo, being an insufferable teacher's pet, immediately stops trying to detach my claws from the doorframe in an attempt to dissociate himself from my unceremonious removal and protests, "But father, she's a Fan Fiction author. She wants to interview us." Thanks for letting the cat out of the bag, Leo.

Master Splinter seems to consider the threat that a fan girl with a pencil and a big imagination poses before demanding, "Do you write about my sons in explicit ways?"

Speaking to the brick wall in front of my face, I reply loosely, "Not unless you count relationships as explicit…"

"Then it is alright," the rat replies after a second's hesitation. Bless his whiskers! His voice warning, Splinter turns to his most hostile son and orders in a tone that leaves no room for argument, "Raphael, let the young lady down."

With an unnecessary amount of grumbling, Raph dumps me on the floor, folding his arms over his chest discontentedly. That smarts. I get to my feet and rub my hip where there is no doubt a lovely, tender bruise forming. The only thing that softens the pain is the fact that Splinter's glare is tearing a strip off of Raph. Serves him right.

Master Splinter hobbles to me with one paw clutching his cane and holds out his other to shake. I smile as I return the gesture, and he turns from me to address his sons, "You will answer all of her questions honestly and _appropriately_." The emphasis on the final word is not lost on me or his sons.

The four brothers seethe with resentment as I grin in triumph. My smile relaxes as the rat master faces me again, wishing me the best of luck in my interview. He shuffles off and calls, "I am going to retire to my room. I will be there if you need anything."

Then, he's gone.

The next ten seconds are filled with a long pregnant pause that swells slowly, viscous like molasses. To get my interview started, I make a grand gesture toward the couch and offering graciously to the four boys, "Have a seat."

The turtles eye me as they cautiously take their seats, squeezing together on the blue couch across from the brown chair to my left. They'd rather sacrifice elbow room than sit any closer to me than they have to. Smart move.

I perch on the edge of the large brown easy chair, crossing my legs at the ankles, and set my bags and guitar case on the cold cement floor. I open my backpack and fish around the depths of the bag until I close my hands on my notebook and a pen. I flip open to a fresh page and uncap the pen, scribbling on the corner of the sheet to make sure the pen isn't dried up; then, I neatly print the date and the subject "Interview with the TMNT" at the top of the page.

I look up and nearly laugh out loud at the four brothers squashed on the couch like sardines, looking quite uncomfortable. Boys are ridiculous. Trying to sound jovial, I begin, "Alright, first question—"

"Hold on," Raph interrupts, wrestling his arm from between himself and Mikey to hold up his hand. "We have some questions for you first."

Not what I was planning on, but I decide to go with the flow. I recline slightly and make a gun gesture with my hand, replying, "Fire away."

Raph demands impatiently, "First of all, who _are_ ya? What's yer name?"

Great, the name thing again. My tone light, I answer very simply, "I cannot disclose that, for it would take away from the mysterious façade that I am trying to create. My pen name, if you're interested, is The Light of Reason."

"Do you want us to call you Light or Reason?" Mikey jokes, looking pretty pleased with his own wit.

I give him an unimpressed look and reply dryly, "If you think you're funny, you're mistaken."

To my surprise, Raph barks out a laugh. Who knew he had a sense of humour? On second thought, who knew _I _had a sense of humour?

Mikey pouts slightly and crosses his arms over his chest, resembling an eight-year old as opposed to a teenager. Donatello looks exasperatedly at Raph and then Mikey before asking me, "What should we call you?"

"Um…" I stall, racking my brains for inspiration, "Jade." Yeah, Jade. I like that name, it's pretty and exotic.

Leo frowns and repeats, "Jade?"

I nod in reply. All I have to do is answer to the name Jade, and I'm good to go.

"Alright," Leo says slowly, folding his arms over his plastron as he leans back in his seat.

Tentatively, Don raises his hand like an elementary school boy, and I can't help but smile as I call on him. He matches up the tips of his fingers and announces, "I have a question."

"Yes?" I urge, flipping my pencil between my fingers out of habit and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

Don is on edge as he asks, "What do you…_people_ write about us? Shouldn't we have a—a say in what's written?"

_ Au contraire, mon cher_, you have no absolutely no control over the musings of the great fan girl mind.

"Well, Don—can I call you Don?" I ask, and when he nods in reply, I respond slowly, "The authors don't write anything _too _bad. And as for your second question, the answer is no. You have no control over what is written."

"So we don't have the right to censor?" Leo asks, sounding indignant.

Choosing my words well, for I'd like to avoid a lawsuit, I reply, "No, and thanks to that oh so useful disclaimer, we don't have lawyers breathing down our backs. Other than this, you four manipulate everything from shows and movies to comics and merchandise…although I don't think Raph got a say in the design of his action figure, seeing as his mouth looked kind of weird."

Raph straightens and demands sharply, "My mouth looks weird?"

Uh oh. I smile sweetly and change the subject by suggesting, "On with the interview!"

I poise my pen over the notebook in my lap expectantly, reminding the boys that our time is short. They relax in their seats a bit and I begin my little spiel, "I know quite a bit of general information about you guys from the show—"

"That's not creepy," Raph mutters sarcastically.

Ignoring the big baby, I continue purposefully, "I want to know the things that we viewers don't see, the way you guys _really_ are. We'll start with something easy. Are any of you currently in a relationship?"

"What?!" They demand in unison, looking aghast and confused at the same time. I bite on my lip to keep myself from laughing and jot down "All single" drawing a small smiley face beside it.

I glance at my sheet of questions and ask, "Okay, so what is your greatest fear?"

My pen hovers eagerly over my page as I wait for their response. The four boys return my look with one that is very apprehensive and mistrusting.

"I'm afraid of scary movies and spiders," I offer, hoping the information will help them loosen up a bit.

Glancing furtively from side to side, Mikey confesses, "I'm afraid of ghosts. Man, they totally freak me out!"

Thank you, Mikey! I write it down, and glance back up with interest, hoping that my unwilling volunteers will speak up. I sigh and urge, "Come on, I won't use this against you. I just want to know more about you. It's important to be knowledgeable about the subject you're writing about."

Let's see if _that_ will appeal to the curious researcher in Don. Don is quiet for a long moment and then he raises his hand. She shoots, she scores!

"You can go ahead Don, you don't have to raise your hand," I coax, finding his timid nature cute.

He lowers his beak and says, "I'm afraid of drowning."

"Drowning?" I repeat to make sure I heard him right. He nods, and I see a quick flash of discomfort in his eyes. I write down his answer and look back up, waiting for an answer from the two eldest turtles. I direct my attention to Leo because I know he won't tear my head off like Raph and carefully prod, "What about you, Leo?"

He sits up in his seat and after a pause replies, "I'm afraid of losing my family."

Mikey, Don and Raph's look at him in surprise, and I'm also surprised that Leo felt safe telling me that. I already knew Leo was overprotective, but it's nice that he decided to share that with a crazy fan girl who showed up randomly in his home and managed to stay there by seeking his father's aid. I write it down in my notebook and I look at Raph and ask, "What about you?"

"Fear? I ain't scared of nothin'," Raph responds, crossing his arms over his chest.

As if, tough guy; everyone is afraid of _something_. I give him an "are you kidding me?" look to urge him to open up, but he returns my look with one of firm resolve.

Mikey leans back in his seat and quips, "You could have fooled me, seeing as when you found that fly in your bedroom, you nearly trashed your room trying to get it."

Raph scowls and mutters, "I don't like bugs. What's it to ya?"

I quickly scribble down "Afraid of bugs" by Raph's name as Leo murmurs, "That doesn't explain why you cried when you saw a caterpillar on the kitchen table."

"I was eight, Leo!" Raph snarls. He reaches over Mikey's head to hit Leo, who dodges his attempt easily. Raph returns to his slouched cross-armed position on the couch and glowers at the air in front of his face like it has done him some great offense. I opt not to say anything more about his fear—ahem, "dislike" of bugs.

"Okay," I say in a low voice, and decide a new approach may be needed. Maybe now would be a good time to ask a lighter question. I scan my list and one pops out at me. I look up and ask, "What are your hidden talents?"

"Hidden _whats_?" Mikey asks, giving me a strange look.

I didn't think I'd have to break it down for these smart boys, but I guess I have to. Taking in a breath, I explain, "For example, what is Don good at that few people know about?"

Mikey frowns in thought, trying to come up with a good answer. After a few moments, Raph cuts in, "Don can stay awake for more than 180 hours straight on only coffee."

It's strange, but a talent nonetheless, so I scribble it down next to Don's name just as Leo speaks up,

"He can learn languages very quickly," the eldest brother comments. So he's multilingual? That's cool, I should write that down.

Mikey rockets off the couch and waves his hand wildly in the air as he yells out, "Don can fit 29 normal sized marshmallows in his mouth at once!" Um…no comment.

I write it down quickly and smile, instructing, "Now do the same for your other brothers."

"I know! I know!" Mikey pipes up, his face bright and eager, "Raph can drink twelve shots in under twenty seconds without hurling!" Wow, that takes a lot of control…I guess.

Don says after a short pause, "Raph can bring an engine to life in less than ten minutes, even if it's totaled." I'll keep that in mind the next time my car breaks down…if I had a car. He can fix my bicycle, I guess.

As I write down Don's reply, Leo answers, "Raph has very good balance, considering how little he practices…"

"Shut up!" Raph growls and slouches in his seat, his glare like a sword hacking at Leo's head. Okay, then.

I write down Leo's suggestion, leaving out his snide remark, and say, "Alright, what about Mikey's talents?"

"You're lookin' at it," Mikey teases as he gestures toward his body and winks at me like the flirt he is. I roll my eyes at his tease, trying not to laugh.

Raph elbows Mikey and says, "Mike can run like hell when he puts his mind to it." I can just imagine what Mikey uses his super speed for. I guess that being able to run like a cheetah _would_ come in handy for Mikey, especially when Raph's pissed off at him about some practical joke. I write down Raph's suggestion with a little flourish, and look back up, urging someone else to say something.

"Well," Don begins, "Mikey is probably the best gamer I've ever seen." I should have known.

Conversationally I ask, "What do you play, Mikey?"

"Everything! You name it, I play it!" Mikey replies and reclines with his hands behind his head, propping his feet up on Leo's knee casually. Leo pushes Mikey's feet off of his lap and gives him a disapproving look, directing his next sentence at me.

"Mikey's an artist," he says, looking fondly at Mikey, who all of a sudden seems a little self-conscious.

"Really?" I ask, as this has caught my interest. Leaning forward earnestly, I ask, "What medium do you use?"

"Pencil crayons and charcoal mainly," Mikey replies, slightly embarrassed about the subject of his art. Mikey's obviously not keen on sharing his art, or talking about it, in front of me or his brothers.

I smile at him reassuringly and say, "I like to paint and sketch. I'd really like to see some of your work, if you'd like to show me."

Mikey shrugs, mumbling, "I'll think about it," and sits back in his seat, looking away from me.

I quickly write down the suggestions from Mikey's brothers, then say, "Now, tell me about Leo's talents."

Mikey and Don appear to be deep in thought, but after a good thirty seconds, they still haven't come up with anything to tell me about their brother's talents. My pen hovers over my page awkwardly until my arm starts to hurt, and I rest it on the page as I wait for an answer. Raph glances at Leo and smirks, saying, "Leo still manages to walk around normally with a stick constantly up his ass."

Leo gives Raph a sharp look and snaps, "At least I don't burst a blood vessel every time someone tries to help me out." And this coming from Mr. 'I have to do everything myself'.

Raph snorts and asks, "Is that all you got, Leo?"

Leo is quiet for a long moment and Raph settles back into his seat with a satisfied smirk.

Then, Leo adds almost inaudibly, "That, and you have a small dick."

My jaw drops in absolute shock—I never thought I'd hear Leo say something so crude— at the same time that Raph reaches around Mikey to smack Leo, ignoring Mikey's cry of pain. I didn't know that I'd get to witness a real Raph and Leo feud, but instead of being excited, I'm appalled by their behavior.

Clearing my throat, I try to get their attention by saying, "Guys? What about the interview?"

I'm ignored as Leo blocks Raph's hits, Raph swears fluently while throwing punches, Mikey protests to being in the middle, and Don tries in vain to stop their bickering.

Oh, that is it! I set down my notebook beside me and push myself out of my chair, marching the few steps to the couch. They don't even acknowledge my presence; fed up with their fighting, I use my weapon of mass destruction: my voice.

"HEY!" I shout as loud as I can, and the turtles freeze, looking up at me in surprise. My dad used to call me Foghorn, and the name is rightly given. Looking at them with an expression of exasperation, I say, "If you don't mind, I'd like to have an interview _without_ the cage match. There's no need to fight each other."

"She's right," Leo says after a moment, and I relax, relieved that they are out of petty comments and derogatory statements to fling at each other. Looking at me pointedly, Leo says in a serious voice, "There's a bigger enemy here."

My blood turns to ice at his rough tone and gooseflesh raises on my skin, my heart fluttering frantically in my chest. I look up warily at the four brothers who have focused all of their attention on me, and it takes me only a second to realize their intentions.

Oh, shoot.

I grab my notebook off the chair and bolt from the living area, moving more quickly than they anticipated judging by the way they jump at my sudden movement. After a second of delay, the brothers take off after me, and I make a beeline for the only safe zone in the entire lair. I manage to slip through the sliding door of Master Splinter's room and shut it firmly behind me before the boys can catch me and press all of my weight onto the latch that opens and closes the door, holding it closed even when someone on the other side violently jiggles the screen door. I hear Raph curse on the other side, but Leo's muffled voice says with the utmost calm and certainty, "She can't stay in there forever." Just watch me.

I turn to the resident of the room who looks mildly surprised at my appearance, his kanji brush frozen inches above this sheet of rice paper and dripping dark, watery ink on the page. While I'm here, I may as well get an interview out of it. I smile at Master Splinter nervously and say, "They just need a little break. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

"Not at all," the old rat replies and he smiles kindly, gesturing to a cushion opposite him. I gracefully take a seat on the small pillow before the tiny table littered with brushes, ink, rice paper and a partially full teacup. I adjust my bum on the seat, resting the notepad on one arm and twirling the pen in the other hand.

"So," I begin, smiling to myself as I poise the pen over the blue-lined pages, "what stories can you tell me about your boys?"

_First chapter done! YES! I promise to get more of a storyline going soon, but this initiating action is kind of important. Plus, it's lots of fun _: )

_It's a different kind of story I'm trying to write, one less about dating and more about friendships and brotherly relations (although if all goes well, there will be a little romance)._ _If you have any interview questions, feel free to leave them in a message or a review, and I'll see if I can use them (giving you, of course, credit for the stroke of genius you conjure up). Thanks for reading, and please review!_

_The Light of Reason_

Edited: November 19, 2012


	2. Unexpected Dinner Guest

_Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT; they belong to Mirage/4Kids. I do, however, own myself _:D

_I got a lot of good feedback on the last chapter, so I've been inspired to write more! YAY!_

_I'm going to pick up from shortly after where I left you guys last time, so get ready for fun! I hope you enjoy! _

_P.S.-I forgot to mention that the last chapter was in my perspective (although I'm positive that was obvious) and this chapter will be in a different perspective. Unless indicated otherwise, assume that I'm the narrator. This chapter will be told from Leo's point of view (and we __**all**__ know how fond Leo is of me _XD_)_

**Leo's Perspective**

"What is taking so long?" I wonder aloud as I watch my father's bedroom door intently and ponder what Master Splinter and that girl are doing.

Don, who is sitting on the floor with his elbow supported on his knee and his chin propped up on his hand, shrugs unhelpfully. Raph leans against the wall beside him with his arms crossed over his chest and, as usual, a frown on his face. Mikey lies on the floor on his shell and stares up at the ceiling, humming tunelessly while he drums a random rhythm on his plastron.

Irritated by the excessive noise of our younger brother, Raph exhales loudly and growls, "_Jesus_ Mike, do ya have ta do that?"

"What?" Mikey asks innocently, rolling over onto his front and resting his chin on his folded arms.

"Never mind," Raph mutters, his impatience etched into the hard lines of face. Like Raph, I am on edge; however, I am able to reign in my discontent. Raph, on the other hand, is physically incapable of controlling his emotions, his disgruntlement obvious in every movement. Thankfully, I am not so easily read. Such a lack of control could prove dangerous in battle.

I glance back at cream coloured screen door, wondering what that girl is doing with Master Splinter? They've been in there for almost an hour, with only a bit of muted conversation filtering through the illuminated canvas of the door.

"What could they be doing?" I say under my breath, scratching the back of my head. Mikey suddenly looks horrified and he jumps up from the floor in one panicked motion.

"WHAT IF SHE ATE MASTER SPLINTER?!" Mikey demands shrilly, darting his eyes fearfully to the screen door. Sometimes, Mikey is impossibly childish.

Raph smacks Mikey across the back of the head and snaps, "Shut up!"

I reward this verbal and physical abuse with a look of disapproval. Raph can't just do that to Mikey whenever he's annoyed, it's disrespectful and hurtful. But Raph doesn't give a second thought to smacking Mikey and he _certainly_ doesn't listen to any type of authority, least of all mine. _I_ always get the blame for his bad temper and rash actions.

Raph's face is pinched pensively and after a long moment he begins to speak slowly, as if just processing the thoughts as they come out. "They've been in there for a long time. You don't think that they're…ya know…"

Raph, while uncharacteristically subtle, trails off in such a way that I immediately know what he's thinking. For a brief second I have the same horrible thought. I quickly snap out if this irrational train of thought, but not before Mikey cries, "Duuuuude, gross! Raph, there are some mental pictures I can't unsee!"

"Don't be ridiculous," I insist hastily, pushing the thought out of my head and promising myself to never go down that path again, "She's not even twenty."

That would be positively vulgar, a teenage girl and our father…I can't even say it.

Raph shrugs and defends, "It was just a thought, I mean, she's pretty enough."

"What does being pretty have to do with it?" I demand against my better judgement, as Raph will no doubt come up with some vile answer.

As anticipated, Raph smirks and replies, "Because if she's pretty, she's more likely to get screw—"

At that moment, the screen door slides open and Master Splinter steps out with the help of his cane, his expression pleasant. Behind him comes the girl, sporting a smug look that reminds me of Mikey after he's set up some elaborate prank you're about to walk into. Or Raph on a regular basis.

Until now, that look has always worried me. At this moment, I am terrified of what that expression could mean.

Master Splinter smiles and greets, "Why, hello, my sons. I just invited Miss Jade to dinner this evening. Speaking of which, Michelangelo, it is your turn to prepare supper."

I _cannot_ believe it. She's managed to convince our father to let her stay for dinner. One look at Don and Raph confirms that I am not the only one who is wary of this unwanted dinner guest.

Mikey has a look of muted fear on his face, but he obediently answers, "Yes, Master Splinter," and goes to the kitchen.

Wait a minute. No whining or groaning? Mikey doesn't just _do _chores without creating a reason to get out of them or handing them off to one of us, which means _something_ is wrong. And I'm going to find out what that something is.

"I'll go and help Mikey," I offer politely, giving the girl a long look before I head off to the kitchen.

Upon reaching the kitchen, I see that the ingredients for lasagne are already laid out on the table. Mikey is stooped over with his head in the fridge, no doubt rooting around for the vegetables for the salad. Hoping to get Mikey to open up through small talk, I ask kindly, "Would you like some help, Mikey?"

Mikey quickly pops out of the fridge and races to the oven, shielding it protectively. He frantically shakes his head, holding the head of lettuce like a grenade he is about to throw as he cries, "Nononononono!"

I guess he remembers the time I made soup.

"I can handle salad, Mike. I'll give you a hand," I assure him, stepping up to the counter.

After a moment's hesitation, Mikey replies reluctantly, "Sure, bro, just…don't touch anything electronic, alright?"

One broken toaster, and suddenly you are a threat to the wellbeing of all kitchen appliances.

I wash my hands for precisely thirty seconds at the sink and then I rinse the plastic cutting board under the stream of warm water. Patting it dry with a clean dish towel, I lay the cutting board on the counter, replacing the towel on its hook. Meticulously, I begin sorting through the lettuce leaves and steal a glance at Mikey, who is setting the pot of red sauce on the element to boil. Once I've separated the browning leaves form the fresh ones, I toss the good leaves in the salad spinner. I run water over them and top the container, beginning to rotate the handle in time. I look over at Mikey again, who is now grating the cheese while the pot bubbles on the stove. Mikey's focus is off; I can tell by the way he's not grating on all sides of the block of cheese to try and make a circle.

"So, Mikey," I say, opening the salad spinner and looking at its contents. There are still speckles of brown on the leaves; I have to wash them again. As I empty the water from the base of the salad spinner, I ask, "What's wrong?"

"It's Master Splinter," Mikey replies as he puts down the cheese, crossing to the oven. He hoists up the large pot and carries it to the lasagne pan, pouring in a portion of its viscous red contents. Opening the box of noodles with the crisp rip of cardboard, he lays out the wavy noodles delicately on their bed of sauce. Next comes another coating of sauce, followed by another layer of noodles and sauce.

"What about Master Splinter?" I ask as Mikey prepares to sprinkle the cheese over his masterpiece.

"Isn't it obvious?" Mikey demands and freezes with a handful of cheese hovering over the rectangular pan. His incredulous look clearly says, 'Are you stupid?' I frown at him in confusion, wondering how Mikey seems to think that things no one else notices are obvious. Accepting that I will never truly understand my youngest brother, I put the clean lettuce aside and begin to slice the tomato carefully.

When Mikey has slid the lasagne into the oven with its blanket of cheese, Mikey glances around cautiously and takes a couple of steps toward me. In a hushed tone, Mikey says earnestly, "That girl is controlling Master Splinter's brain."

Only Mikey would come to this conclusion. I'm actually surprised he hasn't come up with the "She's an alien" theory, although judging by his current train of thought, that can't be far behind.

I sigh exasperatedly and insist, "That's impossible Mikey, she's not controlling Master Splinter's mind; however, she is persuasive. This could be a threat, so we have to keep an eye on her."

Mikey, who moments before claimed our father's mind was being controlled by a strange girl, looks at me like I'm being outrageous. As he opens the cupboard to take out the dinner plates, he scolds, "Don't be so paranoid, Leo."

Unbelievable.

I look down at the tomatoes I've sliced and notice that they're grossly uneven widths: half of them are 2 centimetres thick, and the other half are two and a _half _centimetres thick. Maybe if I slice them thinner, then put them together….

Mikey swoops in and snatches the knife out of my hand, pushing the tomatoes onto a small plate and whisking it away. I turn to him and, slightly annoyed, I ask, "Mikey, what are you doing?"

"You had that look in your eye, dude. You were gonna get all perfection-y with the tomatoes. They're fine," Mikey compliments and drops the knife in the sink.

He then stretches onto his tiptoes, reaching up into the cupboard for glasses. He grabs six, and for a moment I think he's miscounted, but then I remember that _she's_ joining us for dinner. I don't understand why Master Splinter trusts this obsessive fan girl, let alone invited her to dinner.

Unfortunately, I have a greater problem on my hands. I've come to the realization that we can't simply allow this girl to wander from our home, knowing how to get here. With her knowledge spread, it would be absolute chaos. The sewers would be swimming with fan girls, and I can't let that happen. It would be dangerous for my family, not to mention my sanity.

"Dinner's almost ready!" Mikey hollers, snapping me out of my thoughts. I run a hand over my face and heave a loud sigh, because I've just spread tomato insides on my face with that motion.

Mikey grins at me and teases, "Smooth move, bro."

I turn to the sink and wash my hands, then splash water on my face to get rid of the tomato. I feel a dish towel hit my shoulder with force and I quickly dry my face with it, shooting Mikey a displeased look. He laughs and fishes cutlery out of the drawer, setting the table in record time.

"What's cookin', Mike?" Raph asks as he enters the kitchen with Don following behind closely. When the girl enters the kitchen my body instinctively tenses, my fingers absentmindedly landing on the hilt of my katana. She doesn't notice my reaction, standing uncomfortably off to the side as we gravitate toward the table. Smiling, she compliments, "It looks great, Mikey."

"Thanks, dudette, but Leo helped out too," Mikey replies as he pulls the lasagne from the oven with his Christmas themed potholders.

She directs her smile at me and says, "Good work to you too, Leo."

"My name is Leonardo," I answer sharply.

Don, Raph, Mikey and Master Splinter all stop mid-movement, gazing at me with surprise. The girl's smile falters and she glances down at the floor, my tone not lost on her. Raph is the first to resume motion, collapsing in his chair and leaning back so it's balanced precariously on its hind legs. Some habits you just can't break, no matter how many times you scold them. Don catches my eye before taking his seat, his expression bemused. Maybe I'm being a bit too hostile.

"Dinner is served," Mikey announces dramatically, placing the lasagne pan in the center of the table. He takes off his humorous "Kiss the Cook" apron and plops down into his seat, his face glowing with child-like pride. Master Splinter slowly lowers into his chair, and I make certain he's settled before taking my own seat.

The girl takes the only empty seat remaining, which is between Mikey and Raph and across from Don. She sits with her back erect and straight, her hands in her lap, and looks toward Master Splinter as if waiting for something. There is an awkward pause, then in an overly enthusiastic voice, Mikey instructs, "Dig in!"

Dinner is, surprisingly, a relaxed affair. Mike goes on about a video game that he's gotten to level twenty-five on, Raph talks about some car show that's happening in town, Don explains his latest project, and Master Splinter occasionally puts in a word of encouragement or admonishment, depending on the direction of the conversation. I eat in silence, glancing away from the girl only a few times during the meal. She is relatively quiet, patiently allowing Mikey to tell her all about something she probably has no interest in and asking a few polite questions.

Mikey stops his chatter about a limited edition comic book he found in a junk yard to ask the girl, "Why do you stick out your pinkies when you eat?"

Now that everyone is looking at her, she smiles sheepishly and self-consciously puts down the glass she had raised a second ago, replying, "I don't really know why, it's an old habit. It just makes everything fancy, I guess."

"Oh," Mikey says, not really seeming to understand where she's coming from but pretending he does. He brightens up and suggests, "Since you got to interview us, why don't I interview you?"

The girl's face contorts in apprehension, and she asks, "Will this interview have a similar outcome to the last one?"

Mikey laughs and assures, "No, I promise."

"Sure, go ahead," she cedes, lifting her glass to her lips.

As she takes a drink, Mikey asks, "Do you have a boyfriend, Jade?"

Her eyes widen and she lurches forward, placing her glass on the table and swallowing with an obvious amount of effort. She takes in a deep breath and responds, "No, no, not at all. God have mercy on the guy crazy enough to date me."

Mikey seems unsure whether to be weirded-out or to laugh out loud—it _was_ a funny remark she made—so he settles for chuckling quietly. He then resumes as if nothing happened, asking, "What do you like to do?"

The girl tucks a fly away from her ponytail behind he ear and raises her hands, counting off her likes on her fingers as she says them, "I like music, art, reading, writing, travel, theatre, sports—mainly soccer and volleyball—and volunteering."

I study the girl's face, lit up like a billboard in the night time, her dark brown eyes shining and a subconscious smile on her face. It's not what I would have expected the face of my enemy to look like, but life works in ways we don't necessarily understand. I study her face further as Raph asks, "How long have ya been in New York?"

"A day," she replies lightly, folding her napkin in half one way, then the other. I didn't anticipate that answer, and apparently neither did Raph, because he frowns and asks, "Where do ya come from?"

She folds the napkin on the diagonal both ways and explains, "I'm from Canada. I came here for school; just a change of pace, you know? It seemed like this was the place to take big ideas and a whole lot of energy."

Don perks up at this mention of school. I know that educational institutions have always been an interest for him and I believe that secretly, he wishes he could go to a college or university himself. His eyes are alight with intrigue as he asks, "What are you taking?"

The girl continues to fold the napkin every which way and answers, "I'm taking calculus, biology, chemistry, English literature, arts, French, History and social issues. I'm staying at the campus in residence on a scholarship."

Apparently, this girl is quite intelligent, considering her many courses and the fact she got a scholarship. I watch as she pinches two points on her folded napkin and slowly pulls them apart, unfolding a delicate paper crane similar to the kind we make at Christmas time. She places the bird beside her plate and looks back up, asking, "Are there any stereotypes you'd like me to clear up?"

"Do you guys actually say 'about' like 'aboot'?" Mikey wonders, his question, to my embarrassment, entirely serious.

She laughs a nice, full laugh and jokes, "Not unless we're talking about an actual boot."

"I don't get it," Mikey says after a long pause, "Why would you want to live in that hell-bent country?" At this point, Master Splinter gives Mikey a reprimanding look that he rightly deserves for using language at the table. Even Raph has the sense to keep his creative vocabulary in check when our father is around.

The girl shrugs and defends, "Canada has a lot of natural beauty and some great cultural opportunities."

"Miles of frozen tundra and not a single stripper to speak of? Pure madness!" Mikey exclaims, horrified at the prospect. He doesn't have to be so dramatic about everything.

Instead of giving another good argument, the girl cups her ear and playfully teases, "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over all of my _free health care benefits_."

Mikey raises his fork and points accusingly at her, crying, "Blasphemy!"

"Enough, Michelangelo," Master Splinter cuts across Mikey, his eyes threatening a lecture in Mikey's near future. Mikey sheepishly leans back in his seat, pretending to lock his lips with an invisible key, and throws it over his shoulder.

Master Splinter turns to Don and Raph, hinting, "Since Michelangelo and Leonardo were kind enough to make dinner, perhaps the two of you can clean up."

Don nods and gets up from his chair, but Raph groans before pushing himself lazily out of his chair.

The girl stands and eagerly offers, "I'll help with the dishes if you'd like."

Master Splinter gives the girl a long, curious look, his eyes clouded with confusion. He is unaccustomed to anyone aside from myself offering to help with anything as mind-numbing as the dishes. His voice gentle, my father sasy, "That is very kind of you, Miss Jade, but you do not need to clean up the dishes. You are our guest"

The girl smiles and glances down at her feet abashedly, adding, "Your uninvited guest. It's the least I can do for showing up in your home without any warning. Really, I want to help."

She doesn't wait for an objection, but begins to clear the plates from the table, making Master Splinter's decision for him. Don collects half of the dishes, stacking them expertly in a stable structure, and Raph takes the remaining dishes, bringing them to the sink which is gradually filling with warm water and frothing with soap bubbles. While they're busy, I'll discuss my newest idea with Master Splinter.

I give my father a meaningful look and request sotto voce, "Father, may I speak with you?"

Father's eyes flit from the girl to me and he nods in agreement, rising from the table with his cane in hand. As I follow my Master toward his room, out of the corner of my eye I see the girl look at me, her face contorted in thought. She's no doubt figured out that she's the thing that I need to talk about, and I can tell she's wondering what I'm going to do. No one will be more surprised by what I've come up with than I am right now.

I slip in the slightly ajar screen door to my father's room and slide the door closed behind me, taking in the thick scent of incense that constantly fills the room. I kneel on the small silk cushion in front of the low table as I have many times before, and patiently wait for my Master to lower himself onto his pillow before I begin my speech.

"I've been thinking about what we're going to do with the girl, and I believe I have a sensible solution."

"What conclusion have you reached about Miss Jade, my son?" Master Splinter asks, stressing her name.

I ignore his obvious attempt to get me to call her by name and press on, "Considering the dangers her knowledge of our existence and location pose, I feel that the only solution, although merely temporary, is to keep her here."

Master Splinter regards me intently for a moment, and then he permits, "That would be the wisest action at this point in time. Until we are familiar with Miss Jade, she will have to stay here to reduce the risk of any harm coming to her or our family. Our enemies, while quiet, are still active and therefore, we must be careful."

Suddenly my Sensei has disappeared and it is merely my soft spoken father kneeling before me as he adds, "We will have to, of course, provide accommodations for her."

"That can be arranged," I reply, glad that my father approves of my decision. It makes the thought seem less crazy than it did initially and now I will be able to focus on finding a permanent solution to the problem. Now, to deliver the news.

I rise from my seat and bow to my father, earning one in return. I leave behind the calming sanctuary of Master Splinter's quarters and am faced again with the harsh fluorescent lighting of the main area of the lair. I'm already consumed by my thoughts, debating how best to tell my brothers and our…"guest" the decision I've reached.

I enter the living room to find Mikey and Raph on the couch watching a television program, Raph having obviously wormed his way out of dish duty. From here, I can see Don and the girl conversing, her face bright with an expression I've never seen before. It is an odd mixture of interest, excitement and hesitancy, and she can't seem to stop smiling for even a moment. I catch Don's eye and indicate to him and the girl, then gesture to the living room. He nods at me and says something I can't make out to the girl, who nods and puts down the dishtowel in her hands. She follows behind Don and her face twists in thought, her eyes darting nervously to me and back to the air in front of her face.

Don sits on the couch beside Mikey and I turn off the TV, standing in front of the blank screen and waiting for all attention to be on me. The girl leans one hand on the back of the couch, part of the meeting but still outside the family circle. I begin, "I've been thinking about your arrival, and have come to a conclusion. To keep out location a secret, it is necessary that you stay with us for the time being."

For a moment, I fear she's stopped breathing because she stiffens, her eyes widening and her body ceasing all motion. After a moment, she asks me incredulously, "Are you serious?"

"Yes," I reply, although I'm a little surprised by her reaction. I thought she'd be jumping for joy; this is every fan girl's dream. She slowly smiles and manages to answer, "That's very kind of you. Thank you."

Mikey bounces in his seat and pleads, "Can she stay in _my_ room?"

I give him a condescending look for his inappropriate comment, and Raph elbows him in the side. The girl puts her hands on her hips and gives Mikey an unimpressed look, saying emphatically, "That's _not_ happening."

"She'll stay in the guest room," I cut in, clearing up any misconceptions on where she'll be sleeping. I look at the girl and direct, "It's the room to the left of the dojo. I'll take your bags to the room, if you'd like."

"No thank you, I can do it myself," she answers and really smiling now, she strides off to where she left her luggage.

I sigh and run a hand over my face, regretting my decision. His voice low so she won't hear, Raph asks, "Are ya serious? She's _staying_ here?"

"We don't have a choice, Raph. This is our only option for now," I reply, already unsure about how this arrangement is going to work out. I can't believe I'm allowing this to happen. Somebody have me committed to the asylum, _please_.

_So…I get to stay! YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS! It's sleepover time _:D

_As you can no doubt tell, with me in the household, there will be great unrest among the family. I love to cause mayhem. Thank you for reading, and please review!_

_The Light of Reason _


	3. Morning in the Lair

_Disclaimer: I do not own the TMNT. They are the property of Mirage Studios. I do, however, own me. Or something like that…I also don't own Mary Poppins or the song "Jesse's Girl" by Rick Springfield.  
__This next chapter is going to be in my perspective, and it takes place the next morning. I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

Sleep is the most amazing feeling, I realize, as I slowly open my eyes to an unfamiliar room that is much darker than I'm used to. It takes me a moment to remember I'm in the turtles' guest room, and at this thought I perk up, pushing myself off of my front and turning to sit on my backside. Now my eyes can just barely, make out the small table beside the bed, a small bamboo mat on the cement floor, a pipe mounted on the wall acting as a clothing rack, and my bags, along with my guitar case, in a pile on the far side of the room. I was so tired last night, I just put on my pyjamas and passed out on the bed, leaving all of my possessions in front of the door. That was oodles of fun last night when I had to go to the washroom.

My senses begin to register my surroundings, and I distinguish the sound that woke me up: wood hitting flesh and muffled grunts. At first, I imagine a moose being hit repeatedly with a wooden paddle, then realize it's the sound of early morning training. I suppose this is the disadvantage of having your room right beside the dojo, with _only_ a flimsy brick wall separating the two. I thought that brick was supposed to be sturdy and keep things _out_—or in, depending on the situation. That's the reason why jails and schools are made of brick, right?

I glance at the digital clock on the bedside table and groan as the bright green numbers cackle maniacally, teasing 6:02 a.m. in all their electroluminescent glory. _Greeeaaaat_. It _sucks_ to woken up at six in the morning by the sound of sparring ninja turtles…wow, I never thought I'd say that in my lifetime. Well, there's absolutely no chance of me falling back to sleep now that I'm awake. At least now I have plenty of time to get showered and dressed, seeing as the boys' ninety minute practice started about_ two minutes ago_. Man, I love this room; it has such a great location, not to mention a lovely view of the New York skyline out the imaginary window.

I push myself out of bed with a grunt of fatigue, steadying myself on my legs for a moment before I strip off the comforter and sheets from my bed. I efficiently make the bed, tucking in the bottom corners of the sheets, folding down the top, and making sure there's an even amount of comforter on either side. Oh _no_, I'm becoming my mother! I place the pillows at the head of the bed on a sloppy angle and smile, pleased with my rebellion despite its lack of impact. I run a hand over my face and yawn, then pad over to my backpack in the corner, squatting down to unzip it. I pull out five pairs of pants, two pairs of capris, fifteen shirts, three sweaters, undergarments and socks, various pyjama pieces and my winter coat; basically, an entire wardrobe. I kid you not, my backpack is _magic_—like a Mary Poppins bag. Everything fits in it, no matter how full it appears.

Besides my socks and undergarments, I select a pair of dark wash jeans, a grey camisole and a light blue scoop neck shirt with bead detailing around the neckline. Although I prefer letting my hair air dry, I take out the cordless blow-dryer I got as a going away present as well as my hair brush in an effort to make myself look somewhat decent. After all, there are boys in the house, and I need to look good, mainly because one of them is my future husband. Picking up a towel and facecloth, I trek quietly to the bathroom, which I located last night at 2 in the morning by groping around in the dark. Naturally, I almost fell in the toilet because _someone_ left the seat up. Stupid boys with their 'manly' needs...

The warm shower is very relaxing, and my muscles sigh with gratitude as the steady flow of water hits them. My tension is washed away as I scrub the shampoo from my hair, and it all goes down the drain in a foamy waterfall, my body fresh and clean. I shut off the shower and step out onto the cold floor, shivering as I dry off with a fluffy white towel. Wrapping my hair up in a towel turban to keep my body dry, I quickly change into my clothes, making sure that my neckline isn't too low. _That_ would be embarrassing in a house full of boys.

I hum softly to myself as I blow-dry my hair, trying my best to tame the thick, frizzy bunch I call hair. I eventually flatten it down enough to pull up into a ponytail with a side part, and top it with a thin silver headband. I admire my hair from both angles in the mirror, then collect all of my dirty clothes and leave the bathroom, flicking off the light behind me. I tiptoe to the guest room and slip though the open door, shutting it behind me. I stash my towel, facecloth and soiled clothes in a large plastic garbage bag and set about hanging up all of my clothes with brand new clothes hangers, fresh out of the package.

After I've organized the clothes on the make-shift rod, I turn and look around the room. It's clean enough, but it's too bare, like one of those rooms in the magazines that are so neat that they have obviously never seen human life. I should add some…homey touches. I take a couple of novels out of my backpack and place them on my bedside table, along with a small white lamp sporting a butterfly-stencilled shade. I then pull a small folding table out of my backpack and set it up in the corner, placing my writing utensils, my i-Pod dock and a few art supplies on its light coloured wood surface. I told you, my backpack fits _everything_. I zipper the bag closed, leaving my other items for another day. Who knows how long I'll be staying here, anyway? I shouldn't get too comfortable; if Leo or Raph have their way, by tonight I'll be stashed and sealed in a nearby dumpster by Don's welding tools.

Wait, what if I did something nice for them? Yeah, that's a great idea! They might be less inclined to drown me in the pool with the little bridge running over it. The only problem is: What can I do for four teenage mutant ninja turtles at 6:41 in the morning? Invent a flying scooter? Make a spoof of a Lady Gaga video? I consider where I can get a blowtorch and a giraffe before seven in the morning, then decide that making breakfast would be a good place to start from; at least Mikey will appreciate it. I turn off the light and tiptoe out of the guest room, hoping that the turtles won't hear me; after all, surprises are more fun! I make my way to the small kitchen like a true ninja, only stubbing my toe twice. That's one for the World Record Book, boys! I open the refrigerator and assess its contents, then take out a carton of eggs, milk, juice, apples, and oranges, sniffing the milk to make sure it's not soured. I then rummage through the cupboards and locate pancake mix, cereal and bread. I have the makings of a fantastic breakfast; now, to make sure I don't burn everything.

I find a very old radio with an antenna on it with duct tape wrapped around it and fiddle with the tuner through static until I find a clear signal. The radio station has a very peppy sounding male DJ who's obviously trying his best to use "hip" lingo. Poor mistaken radio DJ; kids do not say "What's the haps?" anymore. However, he has great taste in music! I _love_ "Jesse's Girl"! I sing along with Rick Springfield, putting in dramatic intonations here and there as I crack eggs into a plastic bowl and whisk it with a fork, then pour the contents into the already heated frying pan. I stir around the egg as it cooks, the yellow liquid turning into light, fluffy scrambled eggs. I then transfer the eggs to another porcelain bowl and take out a large mixing bowl, pouring in some pancake mix. I add milk as needed to the mixture, then with a large spoon I pour the batter into the pan in three circular dollops. While the pancakes brown, I move over to the toaster and push down four pieces, setting them to toast lightly. So far, so good.

I search the kitchen for a large knife, an object someone as clumsy as myself should be banned from using, and take the plastic cutting board from the counter. I slice the apples and oranges into segments and arrange them in alternating rings of red and orange on a plate, creating a pretty pattern. I place the cooked eggs and the fruit tray on the table, then hurry to flip the pancakes before they overcook. They are a beautiful, speckled, golden brown and I triumphantly pump my fist, hissing, "YES!" through my teeth in satisfaction. It's a good day.

It takes me almost half an hour more to finish breakfast, but it's worth the expressions of surprise I'm greeted with as the four boys come into the kitchen, their defined muscles glistening with sweat. That's all the thanks I need for my labor; just seeing the boys like _this_ is reward enough. If only Mikey would move so I can see Donnie better…Mmm…nice biceps—shut _up_, brain! I divert my eyes to Leo's face and smile nicely—not creepy fan girl-ishly—asking, "How was your training session?"

"Good…thanks," Leo replies slowly, staggered by how normal I'm acting. He glances around the room for anything dangerous I may have cooked up (pardon the pun) then zeros in on the breakfast I've prepared. He stares at the meal suspiciously as if tiny pancake warriors will suddenly burst forth and attack him with syrupy whips and cocktail swords…okay, that would be kind of awesome! He doesn't seem to find anything amiss and relaxes, which makes me smile in triumph. That will show Leo I'm not insane, right brain?…Okay, so talking to myself isn't helping my case any, but what Leo doesn't know can't affect his opinion of me. I'm still good.

Mikey has been staring at the table with wide eyes for the past minute and a half. I'm sorry for ever accusing him of having a short attention span. I clear my throat and ask, "Um…Mikey? Are you alri—?"

Like a flash, Mikey is directly in front of me and he wraps his sweaty arms around my knees, lifting me up and repeating, "Thankyouthankyouthankyou," over and over into my stomach. I stifle a scream and steady myself by placing my hands on his shoulders, unable to utter anything intelligible except, "Ack!" Awkward much? After a few seconds, Mikey lets me down and says, "Finally, somebody else in the house can cook without making the kitchen explode!"

You're too kind? I laugh at his impressed and excited expression, wondering exactly how bad his siblings are at cooking. Judging by the episode with Leo cooking boxed soup I heard at dinner last night, Mikey doesn't get to see many culinary successes that aren't his own. I shrug and say, "Thanks, but it's a miracle the kitchen is still intact, considering my track record."

"It looks awesome, dudette! Thanks!" Mikey replies with a grin the size of the Panama Canal on his face and then hurtles over the back of the nearest chair, landing soundly on his backside. His unexpected gymnastics makes me jump a foot, a small squeak erupting in the back of my throat. Don smiles at my startled expression and rolls his eyes teasingly, his almost-smirk making my heart drum loudly in my chest. He thanks me and moves to the counter, making preparations for a pot of coffee. Reluctantly, Leo says in a cool voice "Thank you," and stiffly sits down at the head of the table, regarding me suspiciously. If he still thinks I'm some crazy-talented assassin or something, he's going to be thrown for a loop when he sees my lack of coordination. I manage to get a bruise the size of an orange on my knee just by walking past a table at regular speed.

I notice that Raph is leaning against the refrigerator with his arms crossed over his plastron and a frown on his face, looking like a disappointed toddler. I point to the table and ask Raph conversationally, "Would you like some breakfast too?"

He glances at the tabletop with little interest and replies, "I'm not much for warm stuff." Okay, then. I shrug, saying carelessly, "Whatever floats your boat," and sit down next to Leo despite the fact he has created a barrier of condiments in an attempt, I believe, to make sure I won't sit beside him. I shift over my chair so our knees are practically touching under the table and mask a smile as he wiggles a bit in his chair, trying to make it move farther away from me. Greater men than you have tried to ignore me Leo, and if you hadn't been so intent on kicking me out, I would be bothering sweet Donnie instead. So, due to your lack of knowledge of your enemy and my stubborn will, your plan has totally backfired on you. Take _that_, Mister Strategizer...I need to give him a better nickname.

Breakfast, conversation-wise, is quieter than last night's dinner, if that's even possible. Fortunately, Raph fills the quiet with the soothing sound of cupboard doors banging and dishes rattling. After beating up the kitchen, Raph plops down at the kitchen table with a bowl of Shreddies™ and a spoon in hand, setting about consuming the cereal in the least amount of bites he can. Boys are so charming,_ especially_ during mealtimes. I look around the table at the various expressions on the boys' faces. Leo looks alert, chewing every bite of breakfast slowly, as if expecting poison. Raph looks very annoyed, his face crinkled in its usual frown. Don's back is still to me, but I can tell by his sluggish movements that he is tired. How did they get through a ninety minute training session? Mikey seems to be the only turtle awake that isn't aiming hostile looks at me, so I make conversation with him, lively as ever even in the early hours.

The coffee machine's dripping subsides and Don pours himself a mug, turning back to the table and sitting in the empty chair. _Whoa._ Don is silent, his eyes half open as he leans over his coffee, inhaling the steady flow of steam like an elixir. Dark half circles and bags hang heavily beneath his eyes, making me think of Robert Pattinson in Twilight crossed with a zombie. He must have been up late last night, if he slept at all—I'm guessing no, as he is pouring salt into his coffee. As Don takes his first sip of coffee, his face twists in disgust and his eyes open fully for the first time all morning. He sighs as he looks at the salt shaker in his hand and rubs at his eyes, making to push up from the table. Spotting an opportunity, I quickly put down my fork and offer, "I'll get that for you, Don."

He's too tired to argue with me so he just says groggily, "Thank you," pushing aside his spoiled cup of coffee. I hop up from my chair and move to the counter, pouring a fresh cup of coffee into a light blue mug. I wrinkle my nose a bit as the sharp scent of coffee enters my nose, because honestly, I _hate_ the smell of the nasty stuff. But come on, who _wouldn't_ offer to get coffee for someone they liked/had a crazy obsession for? I'd be insane to pass up this opportunity…emphasis on the insane part. I take the sugar down from the cupboard and bring it to the table, setting both the coffee and the sugar beside Don. He smiles tiredly and mumbles another, "Thank you," and spoons a tiny amount of sugar into his coffee. He takes a long drink and I suppress a small shudder, unable to comprehend why anyone would want to drink such a foul-smelling brew.

I sit quietly, only half listening to Mikey's banter as I study Don's face. After a few sips of coffee, he is much more animated, striking up a conversation with Leo about some new piece of security equipment. Now, I wonder what prompted that? Could it be the unexpected arrival of a crazy fan girl?...No, of course not. I watch him tell Leo about this new device with bright eyes, his hands constantly moving to demonstrate as he gives Leo an in-depth explanation of his project. He is speaking so quickly it's hard to decipher some of it—not that all of it would make sense to me anyway—and he's a bit breathless from his rambling. I smile as I notice the way the corner of his mouth tilts upward, not in a smile but in a look of excitement. What a cutie…

I glance down quickly when I realize how long I've been watching, and notice fleetingly that Raph is giving me a strange look. Oh _crap_, he caught me staring at Don. I have to put Raph off of my trail, he can't know about my crush…I know! I turn back to Mikey, gathering my thoughts and hoping against hope that Mikey will give me something I can use. Mikey is still going on, having not even noticed my space out, and I catch just the end of his story, "…and then I was like POW! SMACK! BAM! And Raph fell right on his shell! It was, like, hilarious!"

I smile and give Mikey a mischievous look, saying, "Really? You must be _much_ better than Raph." Just as anticipated, Raph bristles, glaring at me with a look of incredible dislike. Mikey grins with the brilliance of a sun and leans back casually in his chair, balanced on just one chair leg. He shrugs and says with mock modesty as I expected, "What can I say? When you got it, you _got_ it."

"I'll give ya somethin'," Raph mutters, and makes a movement with his leg under the table. Before Mikey can even blink, he's on the back of his shell, his chair on top of him. Mikey groans in pain and whines, "Raaaaaaaaaph, _not cool_!"

I hold in a giggle and tease, "The chair has four legs for a reason, Mikey. Here, let me help you up." I stand up and offer my hand, which Mikey takes, pushing off the floor with his feet and one hand. He rubs his backside and moans, righting the chair and sitting down gingerly on the wooden seat. Leo looks at Mikey disapprovingly, then gives me a look of interest. That's the most positive he's been toward me in the past 15 hours, and I take that as a blessing. Maybe Leo's warming up to me. I smile at him and his look of distaste swiftly returns, his eyes narrowed in suspicion; so much for that fantasy.

I take a drink of my juice and swallow hard, surveying the four boys at the table. They all seem in a decent mood, even Mikey who's forgotten his tumble and is chattering happily to Raph who has the heels of his palms pressed into his eyes, obviously controlling the need to tell Mikey to shut up. When Mikey takes a break in his narration of his success in a video game to catch his breath, I cut in, "I've been thinking about something."

"This ain't good," Raph mumbles, lifting his head and giving me a harsh look. I laugh lightly, but fade off when I see the expression on the other brothers' faces. Raph wasn't kidding about that, I guess. I clear my throat and press on carefully.

"Since I'm going to be here for a little while," Leo's face tightens in displeasure, but I keep going, "I thought that I might be able to have another interview." Their faces show apprehension, and I put up my hands in defence, saying, "I know the last one didn't turn out very well, but I have a different approach I want to try. Maybe the reason it was awkward is because I asked questions that weren't very comfortable to answer in front of not only a total stranger, but also in front of your brothers. So I think that perhaps a better way to go would be one-on-one interviews."

"No way," Raph replies without missing a beat, his fist clenching on his spoon. Leo says nothing, scrutinizing me with all of his energy in an attempt to find deception in my suggestion. I level with him, my eyes locked on his for a long moment, praying that he'll agree with me. After a long stare down, Leo straightens in his seat and replies, "I'd have no problem with that." Say _what_?

Raph is as startled as I am and pounds his fist on the table, demanding through gritted teeth, "Are ya _serious_, Leo?" I second that! Raph gestures toward me says, "Just last night, ya wanted ta get her outta here, and now yer gonna let her interview ya? What the hell are ya thinkin'?" I remain silent, holding my breath as Leo regards me with his cool grey eyes—I didn't know they were grey! They look really amazing, tinted with blue and so _shiny_. Sort of like Mikey's, but not as bright or big. Okay, back to reality.

"Because," Leo answers, lifting his teacup from the table top, "it's the least I can do after my rude behaviour last night." Leo is my _homeboy_! YES! I can't help smiling in satisfaction, my eyes flicking to Raph's annoyed face for only a second before they return to Leo. He looks at me expectantly, and I realize he's waiting for me to explain my plan.

"I've thought of an order, so we can keep it all organized. Today, I'd like to interview Mikey," I say, seeing Mikey grin out of the corner of my eye. "Then it's Leo, Raph—if he wants to, that is—and Don." I look at Raph, hoping that by giving him a choice, he'll be more willing to do an interview with me. I add, "And that goes for all of you. You don't have to answer any question you don't want to, or even be interviewed. This is expressly for familiarizing with my writing subject. Is that fair?" I receive three nods and a grunt of approval, and feel my smile spread over my face. "Great. So, when do you want to meet, Mikey?" I ask, directing my question to the orange masked turtle beside me.

"It's up to you, dudette," he replies, trying to make his spoon stick to his beak. I smile at his childish antics, reminded of the children I used to look after at my summer job as a camp councillor. Once he has successfully managed to balance the spoon on the tip of his beak, I ask, "How about 2:00 in the living room?"

"It's a date," Mikey replies distractedly as he stands up, concentrating on keeping the spoon on his face. I feel my face heat up and my eyes widen a bit, my heart stopping for a second. Did he say date? Why did he say date? The spoon falls from Mikey's face as he freezes, realizing what he's said, and he spins around to face me, making an attempt at a save, "I didn't mean like a _date _date, I meant I'd be there. I-it's an expression, ya know, like 'Cat got your tongue' or somethin'…uh…yeah."

I relax and smile warmly, insisting, "Don't worry, I didn't interpret it that way." Okay, maybe I did, but he doesn't have to know that. Noticing that it's after eight and that all of the boys are done of breakfast, I stand up to collect the dishes. As I pick up my plate, Master Splinter enters the kitchen and pauses at the sight of his sons sitting at a full breakfast table with me. He takes in the table and asks, "Did you make this, Miss Jade?"

"Yeah, I was up, so I thought I'd do something nice," I reply, confused by the tiny smile that twitches at the corner of his mouth. He bows his head graciously to me and says, "That was very kind of you; you may leave. My sons would be happy to clean up, seeing as you've done this for them." Raph looks about to protest, but shuts his mouth when Splinter gives him the evil eye. I've _got _to learn how to do that. I smile and put my plate down, saying a quick, "Thanks," and hurrying off to my room. Raph's hostility and mistrust have given me an idea for my interviews. I have to get some things together before Mikey's interview this afternoon.

* * *

_Oh no…what do I have up my sleeve, you ask? You'll just have to wait for the next chapter…  
__I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as I find the hostility quite funny. The next chapter will be up soon. Please review! And if you have any ideas for the interview questions, feel free to give suggesttions!_

_The Light of Reason_


	4. Artistic Flair

_Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine, but I belong to me _:) _Okay, that __**still**__ sounds weird…I also don't own Mario or any other Nintendo characters, not to mention Raisin Bran. Oh yeah, this is going to be a cool chapter…  
__This chapter is being told from Mikey's perspective and it takes place in the afternoon of the same day as the previos chapter. I hope you will enjoy. Now, heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere's Mikey! *cricket sounds*  
__You guys are no fun…_

**Mikey's Perspective**

"Your shell is mine!" I say quietly as I perch in the edge of a pipe, waiting for my enemy to come to me. "That's it, come to Mikey…" I raise my weapon as I leap down and aim the fire flower at my enemy, torching him mercilessly. He goes down in one hit and I scream, "Yes!" in excitement, throwing up my hands up. Bad move. I've no sooner put down my hands when two of the first guy's buddies attack me from behind, wasting my last life. It all goes dark: Game Over. "Stupid goombas," I mutter and put down my controller, stretching with a loud yawn, then push off the couch to turn off the game consol. So much for saving Princess Peach. Oh well, I'll get her later, I mean, that chick's _always_ being held hostage. What's another day in Bowser's castle? I glance at the clock and see that I have six minutes until my interview. I could clean up the living room like Leo or Don would…_or_, I could use this time to get myself a little snackie. Ding ding ding! We have a winner!

I dig around in the kitchen cupboards until I find the cheese puffs, pairing them with a bag of marshmallows. It's the perfect contrast of salty and sweet, cheesy and sugary, puffy and…puffy. And to offset the balance of flavours: a soda. The soda will play off the flatness of the cheese puffs and marshmallows. Mikey, you are a genius, my man; pure _genius_! I head back to the TV room and flop down on the couch, putting my feet up on the table. Fighting goombas sure works up an appetite. I pop open the bag of cheese puffs and the marshmallows, flicking the tab on the soda can and smiling at the 'whoosh' sound it makes. _Hello_, beautiful. Now, instruction on how to enjoy a sweet and salty snack. Take a mouthful of marshmallows, following up with cheese puffs, and then take a gulp of soda to clean the palette; repeat as desired.

I crane my neck to read the clock and see that I have one more minute until interview time…just enough time to tidy up a bit. After all, I'm entertaining a lady friend this afternoon. I have another sip of soda and push the food bags under the table, lifting my feet from the table and brushing it off with my hand to clean up. There! Who says I'm not neat?

I lean back into the couch, making myself comfortable. I'm not nervous at all, this interview is going to be a _breeze_! No one, especially no girl, can resist the Michelangelo charm…and if that doesn't work, the puppy dog eyes will do the trick. They get _everyone_, even Leo and Master Splinter! I've perfected the technique so well, it's like a super power; I haven't been forced to do any cleaning in _years_.

Four minutes later Jade comes out of the guest room carrying a small plastic bucket in one hand, a rectangular package in the other, white paper and a notebook under her arm, a pencil and a pen behind her ears, and a small recording device between her teeth. She quickly sets all the things down on the table and says around the recorder in her mouth, "Hi Mikey," although it sounds more like "Ha, Iehey". She takes the recorder out of her mouth and grimaces, brushing it off on her pants before she places it on the table.

I greet, "Hey, Jade," moving over to make room for her on the couch beside me. She ignores the seat I've cleared for her and tugs the brown chair that Raph thinks he owns over to the small coffee table. I _think_ I just got rejected. Jade sits down on the edge of the chair and puts her notebook and pen in front of her, then brushes a bit of hair from her face. I look at the small box of chalk pastels and the tub of plasticine that she brought and ask, "So what's all this for, chica? An arts and crafts project?"

She opens up her notebook to a fresh page and answers, "I thought it would be nice to do some art while I ask my interview questions. Call it…bonding, if you will." Whatever, dudette. As long as I get to draw, it doesn't matter why you brought them. I look at the art supplies, ready to dive right in. Wait, what if she laughs at my art? Or what if it turns out she's an alien and she's going to use my art to take over the universe? Or what if she's a zombie, trying to lure me with art supplies so she can make me one of her mindless minions? Or what if—

"Feel free to start without me, I just have to set up my things," Jade says, cutting into my thoughts. Okay, maybe Raph, Leo and Don are right; maybe I _do _watch too much TV…and play too many video games…and read too many comic books. But maybe the _real_ problem is that they're dumb and boring and don't believe in possibilities like I do. Yeah, that's the answer. I mean, we exist, right? I'm pretty sure that Donnie said it violated some dude's law…Mendel or Marzipan or something? Oh, never mind. I'll leave that stuff to the brainiac.

Alrighty, what do I want to use? Hmm, I've never used plasticine before, but I'm in a sketching mood. Let's go with that. I slide open the box of pastels and pick out the dark blue, pulling a piece of paper from the stack on the table. I look up and see Jade write my name and the date on the top of a blank page in curvy, loopy handwriting. I tilt my head to the side a bit, watching at her hand as it moves over the page, making a couple notes and numbering things. She slips a sheet covered in typed letters out of the front of her notebook and skims the page, hardly glancing down at the notebook as she copies down a sentence here and there. How…_efficient_. She then sets down the paper and picks up the recorder, fiddling with it until the red light comes on. She grins sheepishly at me and whispers, "I'm making this up as I go along." Wow, she and I have something in common. That's how I do _everything_. She sets the recorder on top of a pile of scribblers and looks back up at me, asking, "You're going to draw? That's cool."

"Uh, yeah," I reply lamely, kicking myself for the stupid answer. Good going, Mikey. You're almost as awkward as Leo, and let's face it; he's not getting laid any time soon. Jade reaches over my hands to grab the tub of plasticine and pops the lid open, taking out a cylinder of purple clay which she tears a chunk off of. She works it in her hands to warm and soften it up, pinching and squishing it between her thumbs and fingers in long strokes and pulls. I take my pastel and draw a rectangle without a bottom, then a similar one inside that's smaller. I draw two other shapes like it, then put the blue beside my page, picking a yellow out of the box to draw and fill in a large circle half hidden by one of the tall structures. Next, I grab the orange and encircle the yellow shape, using my fingers to blend it in and soften the outside of the circle.

"Let's start with an easy one. What do you like to do, Mikey?" Jade asks, shaping the plasticine into a thick rectangle with rounded edges and folding it so it looks like a squashed "L" from the side. I use a light blue pastel to draw the water beneath the rectangle-things and then fill in the base of the page as I reply, "I like to play video games, watch TV, hang out with my bros, go topside, cook, draw, skateboard, and prank my family. After all, I am the Master prankster!"

Jade snorts out a laugh and puts down her clay for a moment to scribble some notes on her page, then picks up her clay again to form an egg shape with the purple clay, pressing the bottom on the table to flatten it. She then pinches a small amount of plasticine at the base, making a little tail that curls up at the tip. What the heck is she making? It looks like a purple dog or something. I take some dark green and blue and alternate the two colors, making squiggles in the big blue mass and softening the lines with my thumb. Hey, this is turning out really good! I pick up the dark blue and color in the towers, adding some purple and black for shading which I blend into the dark mass. Jade tears off a piece of yellow plasticine and starts to warm it in her hands, asking me, "Do you like living here?"

"Sure dudette, what's not to like? New York is where it's at! Woohoo!" I reply enthusiastically, drawing lines that swoop down in a curve between the tops of the structures on my page. I begin to sketch a purple platform through the centre of the three towering rectangles, adding some black to make it match the support beams I've drawn. Jade flattens out the plasticine into a rectangle the thickness of a stick of gum and says as she flattens it over the top and down one side of the purple egg shape, "I meant in the sewers."

I stop drawing for just a second and think about what she asked. It's cool living down here and all, but I wish I could just hang around up top whenever I want, go to the park or the store, and not worry about being seen. As I fill in the background with orange, yellow, pink and purple, blending the lines between them until it's hard to tell where one color ends and the other begins, I reply, "It's pretty sweet having this place all to ourselves. No traffic problems, no noisy neighbours, but…it's kinda like we're trapped down here, ya know? There's all this cool stuff up top, like concerts and sports and parties that you can't be a part of it. You can watch it on TV or read about it, but that's all you'll ever get to do; just _watch_ it happen."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jade stop moving, and for a few beats the only sound is the pastel in my hand moving over the page. What's she looking at, _besides_ my devastating good looks? I pause to look up at her and see her expression of surprise. When she doesn't say anything for a good ten seconds, I feel the need to ask, "What?"

"Sorry, I…I just didn't expect that kind of answer from you," she replies, giving me a bemused smile. Isn't that always the case? People think that just because I like to joke and laugh it up, I don't know how to be serious. They think that I don't _see_ stuff. I laugh without smiling and say, "I know, I get that a lot," a lump of disappointment forming in my stomach as I bow my head over my picture.

Jade's hands, stained with orange, purple and yellow from the plasticine, rest on her lap patiently, and although they are the only body part I can see, I know that she's giving me an urging look. I chance to look back up at her and she smiles sympathetically at me, revving up for a speech. _Great_, now she's going to give me some insincere bull. Jade exhales loudly through her nose and insists, "I didn't mean it like that, Mikey, I just thought that you liked living here. You seem so happy, like you fit here perfectly. You seem to understand that life isn't about what you have or where you live. It's about the people you love."

Okay, that didn't sound like insincere bull; that sounded like a compliment. I shrug and reply, "I _am_ happy here, I mean, where _else_ can you find a full pipe to skateboard in?" Jade smiles at me in amusement and jots down a couple of notes, before she goes back to sculpting her dog-bird-bowling pin thingy she's making. I make some more highlights and shadows on my skyline picture, only half listening as Jade asks, "What kind of music and movies do you like?"

"I like action, horror and comedy movies. For music, I like hip hop, rock, pop and rap," I answer, putting the last stroke on my picture. I look over the drawing I've made of the sun setting over the water behind the Brooklyn Bridge, making sure I've filled in all the spaces with colour. I'm not too fussy about art being perfect, because that's the great thing about art: it doesn't _have_ to be perfect. I look at Jade and see her wrinkle her nose and purse her lips as she assembles the plasticine figure, remarking, "In my opinion, rap is just sex-driven noise, unless it has humorous or meaningful lyrics." Thanks for shooting down my music, Jade.

Jade takes the two largest pieces of plasticine and puts them together, then takes a strip of yellow, flattening it over one side of the body of the creature she's making. She sticks two orange wings to the opposite side of the body and then takes a small amount of white clay, making two tiny balls that she presses onto the face of her figurine for eyes. With two even smaller balls of black clay, she gives the creature pupils, and then picks up her pencil, poking two holes into its face. For the final touch, she separates the edge of her notebook cover from the pages and presses it into the yellow plasticine on the front of her figurine, creating a few horizontal lines. She smiles and turns the little animal toward me, waiting for me to say something. It's a purple dragon as long as my finger with a lined yellow underbelly, orange wings, a tiny tail and enormous eyes.

"Hey, that's pretty cool," I compliment, and she smiles proudly looking up at me as she begins to say, "Thank y-" Jade stops suddenly, her jaw dropping and her eyes nearly popping out of her head like a cartoon character. Okay, why is she staring at my hands? Having three fingers isn't a big deal; I thought crazy fan girls would know about the finger thing. Oh wait, she's not staring at my hands…she's staring at my picture. Jade gapes at the drawing for a few seconds before she says, "Mikey, your picture is _amazing_!"

I know I am. Just play it cool, Mikey, make it seem like it's not a big deal. I shrug and say, "Thanks, it's _alright_." That's a big lie, because this is _definitely_ in my top five of all time.

"It's beautiful," Jade says in a quiet voice and I feel my face heat up. Shell! Dude, are you kidding me? What's with the blush? Alright, relax, she probably won't notice, I mean, I'm not blushing _that_ much, right? I put a hand on one side of my face and turn away a bit, hoping that she won't see my pink cheeks. I know people think that we turtles can't blush because of the cold blooded thing, but if we get _really_ embarrassed or angry, a reddish-pink color shows through. I've seen Raph get angry often enough and Donnie get embarrassed enough to know, trust me. I gotta distract her somehow or she'll hold this over me…shoot, what should I say? C'mon, think, Mikey!

"I really like your dragon's wings, they're uh…neat." _**Neat?**_ That's what Don says all the time, and it's _so_ dorky! Jade doesn't notice my lame excuse of a diversion, instead saying, "Thanks, but I do _way_ better ninja turtles—"

She stops talking and looks really shocked that she's said this out loud, her cheeks quickly flushing even more than mine did a minute ago. Whoa, who knew humans could blush that much? She's red like an apple and bordering on lobster. Her face is apologetic as she stumbles, "Sorry, sometimes I forget who I'm talking to. I hope I didn't seem weird or anything." Actually, it's awesome that so many people like us, and do art and write stories and make plays and stuff because they like our TV shows and movies. We're celebrities, but hardly anyone knows that we're real. It's almost as cool as being a super hero…_almost_. Being famous is cool, but you can't beat super strength, X-ray vision and flying powers!

"Can you show me how to make one?" I ask Jade. I know Don said voodoo doesn't work, but hasn't actually tried it himself. Imagine if you will Raph hitting himself uncontrollably, Don constantly telling me how awesome I am, and Leo falling onto his face every two minutes. _That_ is my dream world. Jade looks up from her little dragon and gives me an 'Are you serious?' expression, one eyebrow rising to the middle of her forehead. I grin irresistibly and say, "I want you to make me." There's no way she can refuse my smile.

Jade laughs and replies, "Alright, I'll ask my questions while I do it, I've made so many I can now multitask—" She stops abruptly again with a look of embarrassment and sighs, muttering to herself, "That was _not_ an out loud thought…" I like this girl; she's always saying something funny or weird. Sort of like Don, except I don't know half the time if what he's saying is even supposed to be funny, so I just laugh anyway. Usually he gives me a confused look then goes back to whatever he's making, which probably means it wasn't supposed to be funny.

Jade picks up her things and comes around to my side of the table, sitting beside me on the couch and putting her things back down. Her arm brushes me as she takes a chunk of dark green plasticine and adds in some yellow and bright blue, mixing them all together. As she shapes the clay, she says, "Okay, I don't want to inflate your ego any more than it already is, but I have a good question from a fan. What's it like being the Battle Nexus Champion?"

This is my _favourite_ question! Time to turn on the Mikey charm. I smile at her and say, "Well, being the _greatest fighter_ out of _all_ the dimensions is pretty cool, but there is a price to pay for being so _super awesome_. Because of my fame, it's _impossible_ for me to go anywhere without my adoring fans asking for an autograph or an interview. You know what I'm talking about." Jade rolls her eyes but copies down what I'm saying, moving her recording device closer to us. I lean back and put my hands behind my head, continuing, "As for the ladies, it's a non-stop battle. _All_ the girls want to get with the Mikester." It's time to make her turn as red as Raph's mask. I lean into Jade and put my arm across the back of the couch behind her shoulders, asking, "Speaking of the ladies, do I get to have sex with hot girls in your stories—Ow!"

Her elbow feels like iron as she jabs me in the chest, not even looking at me as she warns, "Ask me that again, and I can assure you that in my stories you live and die a virgin, Michelangelo." Point taken. I quickly pull away, rubbing my chest where Jade hit me. Maybe I should turn down the charm a little, it doesn't seem to be working. Alright, back to the question.

"It's kind of a lucky break that got me the title of Battle Nexus Champion," I admit, scratching the back of my neck sheepishly. It's true; if Leo hadn't been knocked out, and if the Daimyo's son hadn't tried to take over the first time we went to the Battle Nexus, I never would have won. "I know that the next time around it'll probably be Leo or somebody. I guess that I sometimes take it for granted." Good, she looks less annoyed. Jade scribbles down something on her notepad, then picks up her half assembles turtle, attaching the plastron to the front of the little green body. Not looking up from her hands, Jade asks, "How do you feel about your family?"

Shell, I was hoping she would ask easy questions! But noooooooo, she has to go down deep in this interview. After thinking about it for a few seconds, I reply, "My family's kind of out there, if you know what I mean. Raph's always picking a fight, Leo's always working and bossing us around, Don's in his own world, and Master Splinter's tough on us. I can hardly count a week I haven't been yelled at, lectured, or whacked in the back of the head. The thing is, I know that when they get upset with me, it's 'cause I'm practically begging for it by either pranking someone, or getting on people's nerves.

"Then there are all the nice things. Raph's always there for me, even if I tick him off, kind of like a big bodyguard or something. He sticks up for me when I can't or won't. Leo could loosen up a bit, but hey, he's always doing the things he does for us, to make sure we're safe and healthy. He does a bit of overkill on the whole overprotective thing and he bosses us around which pisses Raph off and sometimes me, too. But it's still nice to know that he's thinking about us. Donnie's pretty calm. Even though I bug him and break his stuff, he still has time for me, to listen and help me out. And Master Splinter's not just my teacher, he's my dad. Although I'm not the best at ninjitsu, he still cares about me, and he listens to what I have to say when everyone writes me off. I always know that he loves me.

"There's no one word to describe my family because we're all so different. We have different personalities and likes, but we all mix together and make something special. Just…one big unit that's totally unshakable, no matter what people throw at us." I look up and see that Jade has already finished a turtle with an orange bandana and is moving on to another one with bright green skin. She's really good at those things, they're awesome! She looks up and says, "I have to say Mikey, I'm impressed with your answer. You're actually quite mature—"

"This thing is so cool!" I exclaim, picking up the mini me and looking at it on all sides. "Now _this _is a masterpiece!" I joke, holding it up to the light. "Note the fine detailing, the beautiful facial features, the great body," I gush with a sophisticated accent, and she laughs with a shake of her head, going back to the turtle she's working on. I put down the little figurine and chuckle as I say, "Okay, I'm exaggerating, but seriously, these things are really good."

"Thanks," Jade replies, wrapping a long, thin piece of brown plasticine around the small turtle's waist, fastening it in the front. In less than two minutes, she has made a small Leo, and is starting a third turtle with very dark skin. I lean back in my seat and say, "I wish I had your turtle making skills."

"It just takes practice," she encourages, making a brown shell for the newest turtle in her hands. As she presses it onto the back of the tiny turtle, Jade glances at her notebook and skims the page. "Let's see," she mumbles to herself, making lines in the yellow plastron with the edge of her notebook cover. She bends over the page, then her head pops back up as she finds what she's looking for. Making a small red mask for what I now realize is a miniature Raph, Jade asks me, "If you could do any job, what would it be?"

Is she kidding? Why would I ever have to think about jobs? Let's see, video game tester? Nope, too many hours…ooh, bikini judge? No, she might hit me again. Alright, here's something practical. "Either a Super Hero or a teacher." A teacher as a back up, of course, I mean honestly, if you had the choice, what would _you _pick? Jade tucks her feet under her and turns in her seat to face me, asking, "Really? A teacher?"

Did she _not_ hear me say super hero? Geez, girls don't pay attention to _anything_ you say. "Well, yeah," I answer, tilting my head back and searching the ceiling for a the words to explain it. I play with my chalky fingers as I continue, "I haven't had much experience, but I think I'd be good with kids. I act like one enough, right?" Jade laughs as she finishes her Raph and scribbles down a few notes, moving on to her last turtle. "I see what Master Splinter does for me and my brothers, all the things he teaches us, and I wonder what it would be like to do the same for other people. To teach them about having fun and about freedom and about how to express yourself. It's not all about facts and figures, there has to be life in what you do, a…a—"

"A heart," Jade interjects. It's kind of scary but at the same time interesting that she knew _exactly_ what I was trying to say. She writes something down, her face thoughtful, and then returns to her question sheet. She stabs the page with her finger when she finds the one she wants and asks me, "What is your dream girl like?"

I grin at her suggestively and Jade exhales sharply out her nose, barely covering her smile with her hand, the look she gives me either amused or unimpressed. Either way, she laughed at me, and that means she thinks I'm funny. The ladies like a guy who can tell a joke! Jade advises, "Watch what you say. There is nothing worse than a girl who takes offense." Duly noted. It still hurts where she elbowed me earlier. Girls are so _touchy_.

"She has to be pretty. Nice skin and eyes, a good smile, shorter than me," I start off and Jade bends over her page, writing it down. "I'd like it if she was active and had a good sense of humour. She should be a girl who doesn't over think things, just jumps in and hopes for the best. A girl who does things for other people just to be nice and doesn't judge others based on looks. I'd like a girl who's creative and likes to have fun. She should be honest and accept me and my family for what we are. And I'd like it if she was stacked."

"You're sweet, Mikey," Jade says unexpectedly, smiling at me, her tone changing as she adds, "But you ruin it with lines like that."

"You think I'm sweet?" I ask, smiling at her with my teeth showing. Jade makes a face that makes me think she's going to say no, but she instead replies, "Yes. _Even_ when you say things like "stacked" and you're not talking about soup cans. Now, next question," Jade says, and rifles through her pages, putting down her almost complete Don figurine. I notice then that she's put detailed lines on all the shells to imitate the pentagon patterns we have in real life. My eyes flit down the page where she's scribbled notes and notice the doodles that she's made in the margins. It's a mixture of stick people, animals, hearts, flowers, and words—your basic _girl _doodles. One heart she's seemed to put a lot of effort into—it's shaded and everything. I squint to read the cramped, upside down writing, and make out the name _Don_ in cursive. We-he-ell, lookey here! _Somebody_ has a crush on the _nerd!_ I couldn't have planned this better myself; it offers maximum embarrassment opportunities for both of them! I'm gonna make them blush until they're permanently red!

"Here it is!" Jade says, clearing her throat before she asks, "How do you feel about your training?" What kind of question is that, anyway? This girl must have me confused with Leo.

"It feels like I'm training all the time. I don't always get why it's important, and some days I just don't care," I admit, thinking hard as I continue, "But then I see how many times it's saved our shells and how it connects our family. There's this whole bushido code of honour and spirituality thing that martial arts is centered around, which is basically focused on respect, and my family lives by it. It's good for you, sort of like Raisin Bran or something. Yeah, some mornings I'm just like 'Screw practice, I want to sleep in!' but it's really important to me."

Jade finishes writing and as she leans back from her notebook I see she's filled three pages with my answers and side notes. I know I'm interesting, but that's a lot of notes for twenty minutes, right? I glance at the clock and breathe, "Wow," when I see that it's quarter to four. When did that happen? We've been here, like, all afternoon! Jade glances at the clock to see why I'm so surprised and she looks gobsmacked for a second too before she closes her notebook.

"Why don't we take a break?" she suggests, sliding her books under the coffee table. "Want to play a game?" Jade asks as she stands up and walks over to the TV, crouching down to dig into the box of games beside the game consol. I glance down at my picture and think about yesterday's promise to show her my art eventually. I guess I _could_ play some videogames with her now…or, I could do that _after_ I show her my pictures. Who knows, maybe she'll like them?

Jade turns to face me as she pushes herself out of her crouching position with a game in her hand and is about to say something when I blurt, "Do you want to see my art?" She looks really weirded-out and tilts her head to the side in curiosity, placing the game on top of the small game consol. Now I've made myself look like an idiot in front of her! Oh well, at least she won't remember me being random after she talks to Leo, the Master of Snore, or Don, who doesn't speak a word of English, or Raph, who is totally psycho—

"I'd love to see your art, Mikey," Jade answers. _Really?_

"They're in here," I say casually, pretending not to care, and point to my bedroom door. I can't help but feel excited as I stand up from my seat and lead the way. Somebody wants to see _my _drawings! I take the stairs two at a time and open my bedroom door, peeking in to make sure it's not too messy. Only half of my stuff is on the floor, and I even organized my action figures yesterday. That's what I call spotless. I reach for the light switch, then stop and decide to take advantage of a girl coming into my room. I turn to Jade and lean my elbow on the doorframe, propping my head up against my hand as I tease, "It's nice and dark in there, if you want to, ya know…fool around a bit..."

Okay, I don't expect her to take the bait, but I also don't expect a glare more frightening than Leo's and Raph's combined. Shell, Jade just took my bros to school! My head bumps the door as I flinch back in fear, reaching into my room and frantically feeling up the wall for the light switch. I snap on the light and say in one breath as I duck into my room, "Let's take a look at my drawings, I think they're in this drawer over here."

She rolls her eyes and mutters to herself, "Boys are ridiculous," as she follows me into the room, but I can tell she's smiling a bit by the tone of her voice. Disaster avoided…for now, at least.

_*Facepalm* Mikey…  
__So, he doesn't seem to want to kill me nearly as much as his brothers. I consider that progress! As for those comments of his, he's going to have to watch it. Can't he just stop spouting the pick up lines for an hour or two?  
__I would like to say a big thank you to Darkpoison91 and TT749 for the interview questions, they were very helpful (and entertaining)! Here's an invisible cookie basket *tosses to authors and all the cookies fall out*…Five second rule? _:S  
_I hope you enjoyed a look into the mind of Michelangelo. Don't forget: You can still offer interview question ideas. Please review!_

_The Light of Reason_


	5. Penetrating the Fortress

_Disclaimer: I do not own the TMNT; they are presently (I think) the property of Nickelodeon, or Super Smash Brothers, which I know belongs to Nintendo. I also do not own __On the Art of War__ by Sun Tzu. I do, however, own myself, which I understand sounds strange, but I seriously can't think of a different way of saying it, so let's leave it as is._

_In the last chapter, Mikey and I had a little chat, and I learned a mixture of relevant and disturbing things about Mikey. I will press on with the interviews very quickly, and my next victim is Leo *evil grin* I can't wait._

_This chapter will be told from my perspective. Please enjoy, and I appreciate all reviews and feedback!_

"Ohhh yeah! I win again!" Mikey gloats, grinning triumphantly as he pumps his fists in the air. I quickly turn off the television and place the remote far away from Mikey to avoid another crushing defeat. Super Smash Bros is _much_ more complicated than I remembered it being. Glancing at the clock, I realize that we've been playing for almost an hour and I push off of the couch, stretching my arms high above my head. My shoulders crack and I groan as I lower my arms, then pick up my tape recorder from the coffee table and turn it off. After taping Mikey for the past few hours, I'm positive that I have learned more about him than any random fan girl/author in the TMNT fandom would _want_ to know.

The regular sounds of the lair are altering in preparation for the evening, and I predict that the others will leave their rooms soon. On cue, Raph emerges from the dojo with Leo close behind. The moment Leo lays eyes on me, his facial expression hardens and his shoulders tense. Go on, look! But just so you know, that glare doesn't scare me!

…_Alright_, yes it does, but Leo doesn't have to know that!

Mikey bounces up and down excitedly on the couch, thrilled that he has someone to brag to. "Hey dudes, I just totally kicked Jade's butt in Super Smash Bros!" Mikey proclaims as he jabs his finger at me, expecting an enthusiastic response from his siblings. DENIED. Raph grunts in reply, while Leo eyes the game consol disapprovingly and slows his pace, entering the living room. Mikey's in troooooouuuuuuble. Man, I should have left the tape recorder on!

Leo sighs and asks, "Mikey, you couldn't stop playing video games long enough to answer a few questions?"

Whoa, Leo sounds like he's on _my_ side. But by this, Leo probably means that if I don't get the information I want, I'll stay longer, which in his mind is the worst thing in the world. No worries Leo, because I have _plenty_ of information on Mikey. _You_ are my next subject. If I were alone, I would insert an evil laugh, but that might be creepy. I will refrain. Now, how should I ask this delicately?

…let's face it. Delicate is _not_ one of my strong points.

"Don't worry, Mikey and I had a nice chat. We just decided to take a break and play a game together," I cut in before Mikey can whine in protest, surprising Leo with my casual but firm interruption. I am aware that the question wasn't for me, but I'm not going to let Leo form opinions about me without evidence…although he _is_ right about 98% of the time. Leo nods in approval. Yes! I finally got friendly acknowledgement! I smile proudly at my progress…until he starts walking away. Don't leave! I haven't had the chance to guilt trip you into an interview!

"Wait, Leo!" I say, more loudly than I intended judging by the look Raph throws me. You'd think he'd be used to these outbursts, Mikey does stranger things. Oh no, Leo's about to make his getaway. I have to say something to keep him here. Come on, brain! Work! "Uh…" Wow, what a sparkling intellect I have! I clear my throat and attempt to form a full sentence. "I was wondering if you and I could discuss an interview time. Would tomorrow work well?"

"I…" Leo trails off as he glances from me to his bedroom door with his back facing me. "Sure," Leo sighs, reluctantly turning around and striding back toward me. Oh yeah, internal fist pump! I smile and ask him, "When are you free? I can do any time." He pauses to consider his agenda and I add desperately, "Really, I have _nowhere_ to go." Unless I decide to attend the showing of that cool art exhibit in the room next to the dojo called "Brick Wall". It sounds _riveting_.

"I don't think so; I have training tomorrow morning, the security system has to be reassessed which will take a few hours, and patrol starts at 8:00," Leo answers, not sounding the least bit apologetic. I guess I'm out of luck.

A slow smirk spreads over Raph's face, and he leans against the back of the couch, his arms crossed over his chest as he eyes Leo. Raphael pretends to reflect for a moment, although it's evident he already has what he wants to say in mind, and he drawls thoughtfully, "Don fixed the security system while Jade was keeping Mikey busy, and Sensei told us we aren't allowed to go on patrol tomorrow."

Leo narrows his eyes on Raph, who is smirking delightedly, and says through gritted teeth with false politeness, "Thank you for reminding me, _Raph_." I mask my smile, hoping that Leo can't tell that my insides are aching from the laughter I'm suppressing, and look at him expectantly for a response. His face is _priceless_. I've never _seen_ someone trying so hard to control their temper. Raph and I have more in common than I thought; I _love_ to annoy my older sister. Clearly, torturing your sibling is the proper way to show your affection for them.

"So, would you like to arrange a time tomorrow?" I venture, trying not to seem pushy. Leo ponders my suggestion for a few seconds, his body language showing his dread. I'm sure he'll warm up to me once we get going, he just needs time. And I have the perfect plan: I'll do my interview with him in the dojo. He'll be in a comfortable environment, and maybe he'll show me some cool ninja moves!

"How about tomorrow evening after dinner?" Leo asks, his voice hinting that he would be glad if I had other plans. I don't have time for your silly attempts to get rid of me, Leo; I'm far too busy planning. This is going to work, I _know_ it…famous last words.

"Great, I'll meet you in the dojo around seven," I reply, dashing off without waiting for Leo's answer. I don't have much time to get my act together. It's time to hit the books!

I wake up bright and early the next day at 6:19 to the sound of fists hitting something soft and vulnerable. Once again, I _love_ this room. I pump my legs in the air to knock off my blankets and leap off the bed, rushing over to my "closet". I stifle a yawn with my palm, regretting that I stayed up past midnight reading about Japanese culture.

Master Splinter was quite pleased when I showed up at his door yesterday evening and asked to borrow his books about Japan. He surrendered four books, and I managed to snag a few from Donatello's room. It was hilarious when he agreed to give me some books and I just waltzed into his room and started rummaging through his bookshelves. He was still red faced when I left him. Of course, I _did _ask him why he had the novel My Sister's Keeper on his bookshelf, so that's probably why he was blushing. I've probably frightened him off of women for good. It's not like _all_ girls walk into boys' rooms without being invited (or their homes, for that matter). Just the ones on a mission.

I pull a red and white striped T-shirt over my head and I mumble to myself through a yawn, "A kata is a series of continuous movements used to practice martial arts skills. It is performed without weapons." I put on jeans and brush out my hair before pulling it into a ponytail, then exit my room. I putter around the lair, performing essential morning tasks to the soundtrack of early morning training and my own mumblings of facts about Japanese culture and the martial arts. I return to my room, yawning the summary of On the Art of War into my palm.

At about 7:30, the sounds of life move from the dojo to the kitchen, and I soon smell a pungent mixture of green tea and black coffee. This rare quiet time is a great opportunity to write some stories! I thumb through the pile of spiral-edged scribblers on my small folding table and slide out a more recent one. I return to the bed and lie down on my front with my back to the door, propping myself up on an elbow and opening to the page where I last wrote. I review my previous writings and make a few corrections. I normally write in the evening, so I'm surprised that I don't make more mistakes. Of course, all the mistakes come in when I edit things as I type them up. Stupid spell checker…

After ninety peaceful minutes to myself, I've reached an interesting point in the plot. _'…As the realization hit Jelisa, a back arching chill rippled down her spinal cord, gooseflesh raising on her skin. The moonlight glinted off of the small weapon held to her temple, its grotesque beauty both thrilling and terrifying. Her head was pounding, the adrenaline in her system skyrocketing. She waited for the release of the trigger with bated breath, cringing at the thought of the ringing crack the gun would make as the bullet was released. Jelisa was surprised when—"_

"Whatcha doin'?" The voice is practically inside my ear and I jump so violently I knock my scribbler and pen off the bed with a loud slap. Mikey is going to _kill_ me with his ninja sneak attacks! My heart pounds in my ribcage and I close my eyes, placing a hand to my chest.

"Don't sneak up on me like that again!" I gasp, giving Mikey a look of annoyance and shifting into a sitting position on the bed. Mikey flops down on the guest bed, stretching out across the end of it on his back, and says listlessly, "Sorry." Honestly, it's like speaking to a wall sometimes…that, or some insensitive teenage boy. I'm leaning towards the latter. Mikey stares up at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression, then he turns on his side and asks, "How long have you been up?"

"Since about 6:20, I think," I reply, although that's a bit of a lie; I _know _I've been up since then, and I have the dark circles under my eyes to prove it. Mikey whistles and states, "That's pretty early for a Saturday." Why thank you, Captain Obvious.

"I'll have to wake up that early when I go to school. I'm just practicing," I fib, although I could definitely do without the practice. Mikey looks around the room, regarding my possessions with mild interest. I then notice how many things I've added to the room since I got here three days ago. My makeshift desk is topped with pens and pencils, scribblers, my i-Pod and i-Pod dock and a green desk lamp. I have sweaters and jackets hanging in my "closet", the rest of my clothes stuffed in my backpack. My guitar case rests in the far corner of the room, and to the left of my bed is a low table, topped with an alarm clock that I haven't had the chance to use yet…I wonder why?

"You have a nice set-up in here," Mikey compliments, his eyes flitting over the room again. He stops short when he sees my notebook on the floor, the pages open and graffitied by my curvy handwriting. He tilts his head to get a better look and I quickly slide off the bed, snatching it up and snapping it closed. He pouts teasingly and asks, "Why can't I read it?"

"Because," I reply, slipping my pen into the spine of the notebook. _That's logic for you_. Mikey grins mischievously at me. Have I ever mentioned how much I dislike that expression? It is _always_ followed by questions I'd rather not answer. Mikey pushes off the bed and asks, "Is it about _me_?"

"Maaaaaaybe," I reply, the tone of my voice a dead giveaway. Great, now he knows that it's about him! He won't leave me alone until he reads my stories, and then he'll tell his brothers about them and I'll be a laughingstock!

"Since it's about _me_, I should be allowed to read it," Mikey rationalizes, stepping around the bed and coming closer. Much too late, I hide the notebook behind my back and retreat to the corner furthest from the door. Now _that's_ a smart idea. Mikey will be able to steal the scribbler from me and make a run for it easily; then, he'll show all of his brothers the things I write and I'll die of embarrassment!

Okay, I won't _die_, but my pride will!

As I try to think of a way to slip out between Mikey's legs, he reaches for my scribbler. Instinctively, I shield my notebook with my body and hop up onto the bed, leaping off of it and landing on the side closest to the door. Mikey doesn't take long to close the space I've created and tries to grab the scribbler I have clutched tightly against my chest. He misses the notebook, but grazes my side. An electric shock suddenly passes through my entire torso, and my voice rises two octaves as I giggle loudly. Oh _no_! He's found my weakness: my ticklish spot! I defensively cover my abdomen with my scribbler. Paper beats _everything_…except scissors?

Mikey's smile widens and he wiggles his fingers menacingly at me. I stare him down as I hug my notebook to my stomach, my gaze unwavering as he says, "If you just let me read it, I won't tickle you. I can keep a secret, _promise._"

Yeah right, Pinocchio. I rapidly turn away from Mikey, making a desperate dash for the open door with my head ducked as Mikey closes in. _BAM!_ My head connects with something hard and I hear a grunt of either surprise or pain. Odd; that sound didn't come from Mikey. Do brick walls feel pain? Mikey backs up and I take this opportunity to dig my elbow into his bicep, shoving him further away from me. Ignoring Mikey's yelp of surprise, I look up to see what I hit. I find myself face to snout with Raph, who looks _very_ annoyed. This is turning into an _awesome_ Saturday morning.

"Sorry!" I apologize quickly, rubbing my head where I hit it and letting the air hiss slowly out between my teeth. _Super_. When I go to the doctor and he asks how I managed to get a concussion, I'll just tell him I smashed my head on a giant turtle's shell as I was fleeing from a tickle monster. I'm positive that he'll give me some medication…most likely Prozac. Raph gives me a strange look then glances up at Mikey, asking, "What the hell are you doin'?" It is _not_ good to run into hostile hosts, especially if you _literally_ run into them.

"She won't show me what she's writing about us, so I tickled her to make her give me the notebook," Mikey replies as if this is vindication for his behaviour. Thankfully, Raph doesn't put up with Mikey's ridiculous antics for long before he gives him a bap on the head. That should get Annoying McIrritating pants off of my tail.

"Really?" Raph says with interest, giving me a look that sends a chill deep into my bones. His hazel eyes glint and his mouth turns up at the corner, a short, humourless laugh rising in his throat. This is _worse_ than Mikey's big grin. Raph steps forward and asks me casually, "And why can't we see your notebook? Is there anythin' in there that we're not supposed to know about?"

I shuffle backward and stammer, "No, it's just… not ready yet, I still have some things to fix…you know, grammar, plotlines…" I take another small step back and jump when Mikey tickles me again, bumping into Raph. I am _so_ smart. They've just sandwiched me between them, and my only way out is through the door, which is blocked by Raph's ample bulk.

It's time to use my secret weapon.

"Look, a distraction!" I exclaim in false alarm as I point in a random direction. The two brothers snap their heads in unison toward where I'm pointing. I then slip out from between them and race out the door with my scribbler pressed to my chest. It works every time! Okay, where can I hide? If I go to Don's lab, he might be as curious as they are and then I'll be hiding from three ninja turtles. And Splinter will probably be concerned if I barge in again with his sons on my tail. There's only one person who can help me, but it's a long shot.

I run across the lair to the closed door of Leo's bedroom. My feet are smoking as I grind to a halt, and I rap on the door urgently, bouncing up and down impatiently as I wait for the sound of footsteps on the other side. To my relief, the door swings open, revealing Leo who is visually perplexed by my visit.

I smile brilliantly at Leo and take a few steps into the sanctuary of his room, catching him off guard. I try to seem calm as I say breathlessly, "Hi Leo, how are you on this lovely day? I was wondering if you would like to do our interview early, I mean, why do later what you can do now? Procrastination is a terrible habit, and I'd hate to cut into your free time this evening, now would just be a better time. Don't you agree?"

Leo's brow is furrowed deeply in confusion, at a loss for words. I do that sometimes, because I speak a mile a minute and hardly make any sense, it's not my fault really, I just have so much to say and when I don't know what to say first it all comes out at once and I start to ramble, it kind of freaks some people out—

I'll stop thinking now.

At that moment Mikey and Raph stop right behind me, their breathing regular even though they just chased me across an enormous room. Next on the agenda: get back in shape. Leo looks up at his brothers, even more confused than before judging by his expression. Mikey closes his hand around my free arm and says smoothly as he tries to haul me away, "Hey bro, what's happening? Well, I can see you're busy, we'll come back later. C'mon, Jade."

I lock eyes with Leo and mouth earnestly "help me" in an attempt to appeal to his compassionate side. He looks up at his brothers, then back at me, his face illegible. What was I thinking? Leo's not going to help me; he'd rather dress in drag and sing songs from _Cabaret_. Or marry the Shredder and honeymoon in Las Vegas. Yes, these things are much more likely. There is _no way_ that Leo is going to say—

"Actually, I was just about to have an interview with Jade in the dojo. We decided to reschedule, seeing as I had some free time this morning," Leo cuts in, his expression void of any distaste. I am entirely dumbstruck. I can't _believe_ that Leo is going to help me! I smile, turning to Mikey and Raph who are both scowling at Leo, disgruntled that he's ruined their fun. Raph shakes his head and lumbers off sourly, and Mikey makes a last grab for my scribbler, which I swiftly pull away from him. He pouts, but then shrugs and wanders toward the living area to amuse himself.

"Thank you, Leo," I say gratefully as I relax, my relief disappearing when I feel Leo pluck my notebook from my fingers. Darn his ninja skills! I open my mouth to protest but Leo cuts in.

"I just saved you from Mikey and Raph. The least you can do is tell me why," Leo replies to my un-uttered question. The turtle has a point. I nod and say, "I have to grab my note-taking scribbler from my room. Meet you in the dojo in a second."

I run off to my room and enter in a flurry, fingering through my pile of notebooks before I find the right one. I then decide that leaving them out in the open is not a good idea. The safest place right now is the Mary Poppins bag. I shove my pile of scribblers into my backpack, then rummage around its insides until I find my stack of note cards. Cramming thousands of years of Japanese culture into twelve cheat sheets isn't as easy as you would think. I tuck all of my supplies under my arm and quickly make my way to the dojo, hoping Leo hasn't peeked at my notebook.

When I enter the dojo I sigh in relief. Leo is surveying various swords in a glass case with my unopened notebook in the crook of his elbow. I slip off my sneakers and pad softly toward him, standing back to observe the beautiful swords in the case. Some are long and graceful, while others are short and blunt, but all of them possess a distinct beauty, shining under the harsh lights of the dojo. I compliment as I point upward, "They're very beautiful. That long one up there looks like the kind that Morimitsu made during the Oei period, between 1394 and the early 1400's." I steal a glance at my cheat sheets and say almost mechanically, "He was a master of symmetry and balance like no other. But equally talented is Masamune, a true man of innovation who embedded martensitic crystals in pearlite to make his swords a marvel. A master of the process of nie, undoubtedly, and a swordsmith devoted to quality products."

Leo turns to me with both eye ridges raised as I stuff my cheat sheets into my pocket and smile at him innocently. He clasps his hands behind his back and walks around me, turning to me when he is a few paces to my right. Voice smooth, he asks, "What are the seven tenants of Bushido?"

"Courage, benevolence, respect, honor, honesty, loyalty and…rectitude," I reply, only pausing once. Leo regards me with his keen grey eyes, then asks, "Who created the first model of shinai used in the art of Kendo?"

Oh come on, I _know_ this. "Kamiizumi Isenokami Nobutsuna in the seventeenth century," I reply slowly, to ensure I pronounce it properly. Leo's eyes have a smart twinkle in them, and he takes long, silent steps toward me until he is only inches away. I hold my breath, waiting for his next question, my eyes focused straight ahead. I hear Leo release a soft, short chuckle and turn to see what's so funny.

"That was close. It was in the _six_teenth century, actually," Leo corrects mildly, and my shoulders fall in disappointment. I couldn't even get through two questions! I guess all-nighters don't work as well as I thought.

"However, getting through seven books on Japanese history in one night and retaining that much is impressive," Leo replies and I snap my head toward him. How did he know that? He smiles at my surprised expression and responds, "Master Splinter told me this morning about you borrowing some of his books, and Don said he could hear you talking to yourself about swords masters in your bedroom until eleven." Actually, it was twelve thirty, but who's counting?

"My question is, why go to all the trouble?" Leo says, looking me directly in the eye.

"You just said it," I answer, giving my shoulders a shrug, "I wanted to impress you." And apparently, it worked. He still looks puzzled, so I add, "It's difficult to speak with someone who you have nothing in common with. I figured that if I learned about what your interests, you might feel more comfortable. I hoped you might even decide I'm not as crazy as you first thought." I grin and tease, "Did it work?"

Smiling, Leo crosses his arms over his chest and replies, "Possibly. Now, why were Raph and Mikey after you?"

Can I skip over this question? I guess not… "Well, the notebook that you are currently holding hostage contains some of my personal writings. They were trying to steal it so they could read it and then laugh me to an early grave. That is a fate I'd rather postpone. I was just embarrassed, I guess." Leo looks at my notebook with a hint of curiosity and I fix a pleading look on him, hoping my pitiful expression will work. He looks back up at me and then sticks out the scribbler, his eyes gentle. I cautiously take back my notebook and then smile at him, saying, "Thank you," sincerely.

Leo's eyes lose their softness and he nods formally at me, looking away. That was short lived. I feel the corners of my mouth turn up in a timid, friendly smile and I gesture to the mats laid out in the centre of the room, asking, "Do you want to sit down?"

"Yes," Leo replies stiffly and strides past me to take a seat on the bamboo mats in the center of the room with his shell to me. It's a start, anyway. I pad over to the mats and sit down opposite Leo with my legs crossed, setting down my notebooks and pen. I slip my recorder out of my pocket and press the record button, then lay my note-taking scribbler on my lap along with my question sheets. Let's start with something light.

"Tell me Leo: are you so bad at cooking that you can burn water?" I have to ask; Mikey's story was so bad, he must have been exaggerating. Leo looks ready to defend himself, but then he smiles sheepishly. Two smiles in two minutes? This has got to be a new record!

"As much as I hate to admit it, I actually _have_ burned water before," Leo replies, and I burst out laughing. I've finally found someone worse at cooking than my sister! Leo ducks his head, making me think for a second that I've offended him. I am hit with another surprise: Leo actually starts to _laugh_! Not a polite chuckle, but a full belly laugh! I write down his response, adding 'not as boring as we give him credit for'.

"Back to the subject of how little I know about Japanese history. Can you give me a brief overview?" I ask Leo good-naturedly, and he nods, his posture straightening. I lean forward as he begins to explain the early ages of Japan, and smile as something taut inside me releases, all my anxiety flowing with it. This is going to be a wonderful Saturday.

_So…that chapter was interesting (not to mention long). It looks like I'm sticking around a little longer…YESSSSSSSSSSSSS! AAAAANNNNND, Leo's hostility has lessened substantially! Double YESSSSSSSSSSSSS! _

_Comments are welcome! Thanks again to Darkpoison91 for their interview question suggestions (unintentional rhyme). They're very entertaining _:D

_Below is one of the sources I used for this chapter:_

./masamune-okazaki

_Thank you for reading!_


	6. New Resident

_Disclaimer: I do not own the TMNT; they belong to Nickelodeon…but one can dream. On the plus side, __**I**__ am the sole property of me, myself and I!_

…_yeah, I know it's disappointing, but there's little I can do about this at the present time. ANYway, the next chapter is told from Raph's perspective. I must warn you, he will have a bit of a potty mouth, but as you can tell by my choice adjective to describe Raph's vocabulary, I don't swear often, or like it very much. I will minimize the language. I'm certain that Raph will find other ways to express his discontent_

_Raph (reading from script): Jeeze Louise, don't that make me angrier than a bull wearing a red sweater…Where are we, Texas? What the heck is this?_

_Me: Just some…"alterations" to your colourful vocabulary._

_Raph: This is ridiculous! Nobody talks like this!_

_Me: Well,__** you **__do now._

_Raph: There is no way I'm gonna-WHATTHEHECKISTHAT?_

_Me: A cattle prod _:) _Now, what were you saying?_

_Enjoy the chapter! _

**Raph's Perspective**

"Damn it, Leo!" I growl, my jaw muscles clenching to hold in a waterfall of curses. I can't believe it! Thanks to Leo's conscience, Jade is staying.The one time we're on the same side of an argument, Leo suddenly jumps ship! What the hell?

"It's the best solution I could come up with," Leo defends, trying to sound authoritative. He sounds like a push over to me. Why does he take pity on total strangers, but treat the people in his family like crap? According to Leo, we're a big _inconvenience_ for him. I fling my hands in the air, saying dramatically to myself more than Leo, "I shoulda seen it coming. Master Splinter practically gives her a medal every time she does somethin' domestic." I ain't exaggerating. Jade cleaned the bathroom the other day without being asked, and when Master Splinter saw what she did, he practically teared up. Man am I _pissed._

"Raph, what did you expect me to do? She told me she had to move into her dorm tomorrow if she wanted to keep it," Leo defends, his hands clasped behind his back as he paces back and forth anxiously. He looks really stressed…it's a shame that I don't give a care.

"Well, why does she have to stay here? We could just send her to school and monitor her," I suggest. And by _we_, I mean Don. He has nothing better to do, and he'd get a kick out of studying human behaviour; hell, he could write a book about it!

"No, it's too risky. There's nowhere else for Jade to go," Leo insists, stopping his mad pacing. "April and Casey have no room, and Leatherhead might eat her if she gets too annoying. Remember when Mikey decided to sing that "Crocodile Smile" song for two days straight? After Leatherhead got angry, Mikey was too scared to go into the bathroom alone because he thought Leatherhead would pop up through the plumbing and devour him." If you ask me, Leatherhead takin' a snap at Jade wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Leo sighs and runs a hand over his face, saying wearily, "I haven't told Jade that we're going to let her stay." Then _why_ are you telling me all of this? As if he reads my mind, Leo answers my unspoken question, saying quietly, "I wanted to see what you had to say first. Your opinion is important to me."

"Is that so?" I demand smugly, the corner of my mouth turning up. Looks like Fearless actually has feelings! Or, he's so stressed out he can barely think. Either way, this is definitely something I can hold over his head. I cross my arms over my chest importantly, saying, "I guess you see where I stand, then." Take that, Leo.

Leo frowns and says hesitantly, "Well, there _is _another option." I'm all ears, bro. I raise my eye ridges to prod Leo. He explains, "If you don't want her here, Donnie could use the memory-slip machine. He's tested it, but not on a human. If it works, these four days would be gone from her memory forever. We'd be safe."

I consider this. It would be easy, problem solved, no mess to clean up. Of course, we're not known for taking the easy way out of anything.

"As convenient as that sounds," I say, dropping my arms, "it ain't right. Until we're sure she can keep a secret, Jade should stay with us."

Leo's shoulders fall in relief, and he says smiling gratefully, "Thanks for supporting me, Raph."

I half smile back, then catching myself I add, "You tell anyone I agreed to this, and I'll kick your ass."

"Sounds fair," Leo replies, and he heads out of the room to tell the 'good news'. I follow behind at a leisurely pace, wondering what it will be like to have a girl living here. Then, I get a knot in my stomach that I recognize right away: It means serious shit is on the way.

When I step out of the room, Leo is standing in the living area in front of Jade and Mikey on the couch. Jade politely listens as Mikey goes on about something pointless. I can't hear a word, but come on, it's _Mikey_. Don is on the arm of the couch, fidgeting as he waits to get back to work. Leo waits for attention with his hands clasped behind his back and he glances at me uncertainly. I nod encouragingly, leaning on a post near the living room as he begins his announcement.

"It has come to my attention that Jade will be starting school soon," Leo starts, and I inwardly groan. Does he have to talk to us like soldiers? "She hasn't been with us very long, but she knows enough about our existence to be a threat." I look at Jade for a reaction, and I see has her lips pressed in a firm line, her brows knitted low over her eyes. I guess she didn't like that.

"That is why I have come to the decision that she will stay with us during the school year," Leo finishes importantly, waiting for a response. Jade's brows shoot up her forehead and her jaw falls slightly, Don mirroring her. Mikey, on the other hand, grins like a maniac, vibrating with excitement.

"Yay!" he cheers, reaching to high-five Jade enthusiastically. She pushes away his hand and demands with belief, "So that's it? I get no say?" Leo is floored by her harsh tone, and I can't say I blame him. Don't fan girls dream about stuff like this? What's _her_ problem?

Jade notices that we're all confused and—in Mikey's case—disappointed, so she clears her throat and continues more gently, "I appreciate your hospitality, I really do. I just wish you had asked me, instead of deciding for me."

Leo, whatever you do, don't say something that is going to make you sound like—

"I'm sorry, but it is unsafe for you to leave with your knowledge of us."

…an idiot. Leo is so still it's impossible to tell if he's breathing, his face stony. Jade wrinkles her nose indignantly and asks, "What is this, house arrest?" She pushes up off the couch aggressively and places her hands on her hips, her words rolling off her tongue like marbles down a greased ramp. "This is imprisonment! I would _never_ tell anyone what I learned here, and even if I did, I would be labelled an over imaginative fan girl. But I guess you're not willing to trust me because _obviously_ I'm an assassin sent by your enemies, or whatever paranoid idea you have about me."

Jade stops for air, her eyes locked with Leo's, her muscles coiled like a snake. I anticipate the next attack but it never comes; Jade takes one look at Mikey's puppy-dog face and drops her shoulders in defeat, pushing a loud gust of air out of her lungs. She closes her eyes and after a moment says softly, "I'm sorry, Leo. I didn't mean to snap at you like that."

Damn. One second, she's ripping Leo's face off, and the next she's apologizing. I might have to defend my position as hothead.

She sighs tiredly and changes the subject. "I should go to bed. Tomorrow I have to call the school about my dorm." Jade turns on her heel and heads for the guest room, stopping halfway to face Leo again. "Thank you for your generosity," she adds stiffly, and she disappears behind the guest room door before he can reply. I look back at Leo and see the rigid straight lines have been replaced with soft lines of concern.

We stand there for three minutes without saying a word before I break the silence by muttering, "It's getting late."

Don nods in agreement and Mikey mumbles, "Yeah." Leo is still stalk still, his muscles frozen in place. Silently, Don and Mikey slouch to their rooms, leaving me and The Statue alone. I have no idea what to say to him, and I sure as hell don't want to be here in the quiet. "I'm going out," I say spontaneously, expecting a heated lecture, complete with finger wagging and fierce pacing. Instead, Leo warns absently, "Be careful."

Apparently Leo is so dumbstruck that discipline is the last thing on his mind. This I am willing to take advantage of. I snatch a baggy sweater and some dark pants from the box we keep at the main entrance and dig around for a ball cap and sunglasses, slipping into the elevator before he can change his mind. It hums as it rises, buzzing irritatingly in my ears, although it's better than listening to my own thoughts.

When I enter the dark garage, I slip on my heavy, uncomfortable street clothes, shoving the sunglasses and ball cap into the front pocket of my sweater. It's dark and 83ºF outside, but at least I won't scare any citizens. I swing my leather jacket over my shoulders and the scent of oil and grease slap my face. As I dig in my coat pocket for the keys to my motorcycle, I notice that my bare toes are staring up at me. I glance around the dim room and spot Don's protective rubber boots beside his lead apron. I plunge my feet into the dorky boots, vowing that if anyone makes a wisecrack, my sai will be _up_ their crack.

Sitting on my motorcycle, its body glinting in the minimal light cast by the windows, I mull over Jade's reaction, juggling my helmet between my hands. Surprisingly, I get where she's coming from. It would suck to be stuck inside after years out in the open. I raise my helmet over my head when a bright yellow light floods the room, broken by a long silhouette. I round on the figure, feeling as nervous as a tagger bathed in police headlights.

"Heading out?" a high voice calls out in a whisper. I release my breath, relieved that it's only Jade. How'd she find me? Better yet, how'd she sneak past Leo? I swing my leg over my bike to face her and reply, "I need a bit of fresh air."

She hugs herself and smiles tightly, looking down at her toes as she murmurs, "Don't we all."

"You wanna go for a ride?" What the hell am I saying? Jade's head snaps up and her jaw drops, her eyes wide like Bambi's. "Really?" she asks after a few seconds of gaping, edging closer.

"Nah. I was just teasing you," I reply sarcastically. Let's see if this ball of sunshine understands sarcasm. She gives me an unimpressed look and counters, "I see that you're in a pleasant mood this evening. Where to?"

I guess she does understand. Maybe she ain't so bad. I gesture lazily to the spare helmet hanging from the wall and offer, "It doesn't make much difference to me. All I know is I'm leaving in thirty seconds whether or not you're on the bike."

Jade licks her lips, eying my bike like it will spring to life and run over her. It's her loss. I jab the keys into the ignition and tense to flick my wrist when I feel the bike jostle underneath me. I glance over my shoulder and see Jade sitting on the back of my bike, trying to shove a blue helmet over her head. I suppress a smirk and advise, "Ya might wanna get rid of the ponytail, or you'll never get that thing over your head."

"Are you implying I have a big head?" she asks sharply, although she's smiling. I shrug indifferently and she chuckles as she tugs the elastic out of her hair, smoothing it out by running her fingers through it. Jade pulls the helmet on her head and I do the same, clicking the garage door opener and starting my bike. It purrs, warming up quickly in the crisp fall air. I tilt my head to Jade and suggest, "You might want to hold on."

She loosely wraps her arms around my torso, her fingers barely touching my plastron. "C'mon, you'll fall off if your grip is that loose," I say. She puts more pressure on my chest and I hit the kickstand, jerking into motion. I feel her flinch as we lurch forward and her arms tighten around my waste as I cut around the corner. The city is a harsh assault of neon lights, smog and thumping bass. _This _is what I call beautiful. The sounds, the lights, even the smells. The way you slice through the wind. How the sky looks like a limitless dome over your head. This is my New York, my _home_.

We reach the wharf in ten minutes, and I park the bike near my favourite dock. I pull my helmet off and Jade dismounts my motorcycle shakily, slipping her helmet off with a pop. She gazes at the moonlit water and breathes in deeply through her nose, letting it out slowly. Putting the helmet down, she sits down and lets her legs dangle over the edge. I hop off my bike, quickly pulling on my ball cap and shoving the shades on my face. I plunk down next to Jade and we sit wordlessly for a second before Jade turns her face toward me to say something, releasing her breath with a string of giggles as she takes in my outfit.

"What? This was the best I could find," I argue and she laughs again, taking in a deep breath to sing mockingly, "_I wear my sunglasses at night so I can, so I can see the light that's right before my eyes._" I hate it when people sing, but for some reason I'm not annoyed and I laugh. Jade hugs one knee to her chest and looks out at the open water spattered in moonlight, saying in a hush, "It's really beautiful here."

"Yeah," I reply, pretending I don't care when this is really my favourite place in the city. The harbour is so big, it's like you could jump in and swim forever. No boundaries, no obstacles, just open sea. Jade breaks into my train of thought by saying conversationally, "You don't seem to be the social type, Raph."

"That's fair," I answer coolly. What's her point? Jade looks me right in the eye and asks, "If that's true, why did you let me come?"

She tilts her head attentively, looking like Klunk when he sits on my plastron during a particularly shitty day: innocent and perceptive. Because I'm just too tired to knock the little bugger off, he knows something is wrong, so while he milks the attention, he tries to cheer me up. And like those times with Mikey's damn cat, I'm too tired to push Jade away. I lean back on my palms and let out a breath, drumming my fingers thoughtfully. Why _did_ I let her come?

"I don't know," I drawl, lowering my chin. "You just looked like you needed some time outside to let everything out." Jeeze, this is embarrassing. I sound like a Nicholas Sparks novel; the kind of book you read on the plane when the in-flight movie sucks. I need hard liquor.

"Well, thank you," Jade says politely, wrapping her arms around her knees. She shivers as she sets her cheek on her knee caps, smiling tiredly at me. I notice the goosebumps on her arms; she must be freezing in that T-shirt, and I'm feeling generous tonight. I scoot a little closer to her and say, "You look cold. Wanna borrow my sweater?"

After a moment she replies, "Sure. Thanks," through chattering teeth. I unzip my leather jacket and slide it off, dropping it on the dock in the space between us; then I tug my sweater up over my head. When my head pops out the other end, I freeze. Jade is slipping on _my leather jacket_. She sees my discontent and says sheepishly, "It's comfy. Do you mind?"

Usually, I'd pummel the person who laid a finger on my jacket; instead, I shake my head, replying, "Nah, it's fine." She smiles happily and pulls the jacket closed, the material practically wrapping around her torso twice. _Fine?_ I must be going soft. And the only way to fix that is alcohol. I glance at my watch and see that it's 8:47. A good time to hit the bars. I stand up and brush off the seat of my pants, saying gruffly, "C'mon. I'm in the mood for a drink." It's important to let her know who's boss, and that means drinking when I want to.

"But-" she starts to say, then shakes her head and mumbles, "Never mind."

"What were you gonna say?" I ask curiously, trying to read her dark eyes. She shakes her head and looks away, saying forcefully, "Nothing."

"Well then," I say, lifting my helmet from my motorcycle's handlebar, "Let's get going."

_That was a bit…unexpected, wasn't it? I've actually gotten Raph to not only acknowledge my existence, but also to take me out on his motorcycle. It's almost as if some outside force with personal interest in this event controlled what direction the story went in…*hides notebook* Hehe…uh…I guess all I can say is I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I apologize for the late update. Oh, and I don't dislike Nicholas Sparks; I merely assume that Raph wouldn't be impressed with such a "sissy" author. No offense intended to anyone!_

_I can't make any promises about when the next update will be, just that there will be another one. Thank you very much for reading!_

_The Light of Reason_


	7. Progress

_Disclaimer: I do not own the TMNT or any associated characters. They are all property of Nickelodeon. However, I own myself, so it's all good!  
__In that last chapter, Raph was much kinder than usual…so kind, that he chose to take me on a motorcycle ride (something I, by the way, have always wanted to do). And now, we are going to a pub/bar. This can't end well…  
__I hope you enjoy, and thanks for all of the reviews! They're greatly appreciated!_

The interior of the bar is fairly standard, decked out with dim lighting, red leather booths, and a long, shiny wood counter. There are your stereotypical stubble-faced men slumped over their pints in dingy coats and rowdy minors who managed to slip past the men at the door with a wad of cash or a fake ID. I guess I shouldn't be talking, considering I'm underage even in Canada, where the legal drinking age is nineteen. I'm _shocked_ that the guy at the door let me in without checking for ID. I would still be standing there gawking at the bouncer if Raph hadn't impatiently shoved me in ahead of him!

We settle into crimson, high-backed chairs on opposite sides of a round, black lacquered table topped by a napkin dispenser. I'm getting used to the thick air inside, so this time I don't cough as I breathe in to ask, "Do you come here often?"

"As often as Leo lets me go topside without a fight, so no," Raph replies, leaning back in his chair. I smile, turning my head when I hear the clicks of approaching footsteps over the din. The source of the sound is a young waitress with kohl lined eyes and a sleek blonde ponytail, a plastic tray pressed to her stomach. Sounding disinterested, she greets with a forced smile, "My name is Jessica, what can I get you two?"

Raph is the first to speak, replying in his deep voice, "I'll have a Keith's." Upon hearing his voice, the waitress automatically perks up and her smile grows. She scribbles something onto her small notepad, and then looks pointedly at me. It takes me ten seconds to realize that she's waiting for me to order.

"Oh, me," I say dumbly, and the waitress raises her eyebrows at me expectantly. Raph laughs behind his hand and our server glances at him, turning back to me a second later with pursed lips. I shake my head and say, "Nothing, thank you."

The girl narrows her eyes at me before turning to Raph, smiling radiantly as she asks him, "Anything else?"

"Not now," Raph answers, smiling as he adds, "But if I need anything, I'll be sure to ask for you, Jessica." The waitress giggles flirtatiously and bounces away to get Raph's order. Unbelievable! Even _normal_ girls are reduced to simpering mush when they hear his voice! As a TMNT fan girl, I fully appreciate the depth and tone of his voice, but I had no idea this appreciation extended outside our circle of "believers".

"So," Raph starts conversationally and I direct my attention to him. "You don't drink?" Why does he sound so surprised?

"No, it's not that appealing," I answer, "forgetting" to mention that it would also be illegal. I know that Raph's not of age either, but with a voice and an attitude like his, he can easily pass of for an adult, whereas _I_ look like a high school girl.

The waitress soon returns balancing a tall glass filled with golden liquid on her tray, a thick layer of foam frothing over its edge. As she bends over to set the drink down, she displays her impressive cleavage, straightening slowly to make sure we've gotten a good look. She bats her eyelashes at Raph, murmuring coyly, "I'll be back to top you up later."

"Can't wait," Raph responds, and the waitress flicks me a sharp look before she moves to the next table.

"What was that for?" Raph asks, jerking his chin toward our waitress who is now serving a trio of men sporting grey sport coats and gold wedding bands that they've expertly shoved into their pockets. Is he joking? How could he _not_ notice she was flirting with him? Unless…_Oh_. This is Raph's first time out with a girl; he must not be used to jealousy.

…and now _I'm_ going to have to explain what happened. Awkward.

"Well, you probably guessed that she was flirting with you," I begin by stating the obvious, knowing an infant could have come to that conclusion. My face warms, and even in the minimal lighting I know that I resemble the inside of a watermelon as I continue slowly, "She was glaring at me because she finds you attractive and when she saw us sitting together, she assumed we were…uh… 'together'." How articulate of me.

"You mean on a date?" Raph asks in disbelief and I nod stiffly. He laughs out loud, making my face darken from blushing pink to overripe tomato and the remains of my confidence plummet through the floor. I know Raph doesn't like me—and the feeling is _mutual_—but I didn't think I was _that_ undesirable.

When he sees I'm not laughing, Raph sobers up and makes a weak save. "Not that you're not nice or anythin'," he continues as if he didn't just have a laughing fit. "It would just be weird, ya know?"

YES. Now _please_ stop talking about it.

After a few seconds of silence, Raph says thoughtfully, "I can kinda see why she's threatened by you." Say _what?_ I gape at him as he drains half of his draft in one gulp. When he lowers his glass, Raph swirls the amber liquid around with gentle rotations of his wrist, explaining his _entirely ludicrous_ observation. "You're wearing my leather jacket and your hair is windblown thanks to our motorcycle ride. Honestly? You look kind of badass."

Laughter explodes from my mouth, attracting much unwanted attention. Even the comatose man in the rumpled burgundy suit lifts his head from the bar to see what the problem is. I'm usually respectfully quiet in public but…_**me**__, badass?_ That is ridiculous! When my guffaws of laughter have subsided to a light chuckle, I choke out, "You think that I'm…badass?" Judging by his bemused expression, he does. I quickly add, "I am definitely _not _a rebel. I do everything I'm told, I'm a total nerd, and I won't cross the street unless there's a crosswalk and a green light!"

Raph shrugs and replies, "You and I know that, but _she_ doesn't." He inclines his head toward our waitress, presently leaning over the bar as she chats up the young man behind it. I suddenly realize that Raph's right—_nobody_ in this city knows me. I'm in _New York _at the Academy of Performing Arts on a one year Scholarship in hopes of recruiting me when I graduate. I'm studying my regular courses, but I'm also here to improve my technique in theatre, music and dance. As an actress, it is expected of me—nay, it is my _duty_—to practice staying in character. And this is the perfect place to start.

"You're right," I say to Raph as a handsome young man steps in the door. I catch his attention and flick my eyes downward, looking back up at him through my lashes and smiling. The corner of his mouth turns up in a flirtatious smile and he slips off his jacket to reveal toned arms, sauntering over to our table. I immediately return my attention to Raph, grinning in spite of myself because although I've seen it before, this is my first attempt at flirting. And it is working quite well, if I do say so myself. Raph gives me a confused look and I'm about to enlighten him when Cute Guy stops at our table, leaning a palm on the tabletop to face me fully.

"I couldn't help but notice you watching me a few seconds ago," he says in a lush voice that makes my insides tingle. I fold my arms over my chest and look up at him, feigning indifference with a perfectly raised eyebrow.

"Someone thinks highly of himself," I tease, smiling to imply I'm joking. He grins at me with a dazzling set of teeth that perfectly contrast his tan skin. Either he spent two weeks in some Tropical paradise, or he used some of his sister's self-tanner to save himself a plane ticket; there's no way his skin got that caramel hue hanging out in New York. Of course, the lighting in here makes even _my_ pasty skin look tan.

"Why not? You seem to," he quips, and I roll my eyes, resting my chin on my knuckles and looking up at him. I glance at Raph and he takes another swig of beer before he sets his glass on the table with a thud, stretching his arms above his head.

"I need a walk," Raph says more for our benefit than his own as he pushes up from the table. Before he walks away, he looks at Cute Guy with flashing eyes and reminds us, "I won't be far. Back in a few." With a final look in my direction, Raph heads toward the bar and is swallowed instantly by the growing clump of people in the venue.

Cute Guy takes Raph's seat happily and says, "I thought he'd never leave. Who is he, a brother? Boyfriend?"

I shake my head adamantly, saying, "No, just a friend…he's more like a warden, though." When Cute Guy laughs, his whole face lights up and his warm voice is a cavernous warmth that envelopes me. I relax and lean forward, studying his liquid hazel eyes.

"I never caught your name," I venture, hoping he didn't tell me and I just forgot. He smiles with gleaming teeth and is quick to reply.

"I'm Brett," he answers, making sure I can see his bicep flex as he reaches across the table to shake my hand, "Pleasure to meet ya, darlin'."

When he says the word 'darling', a Southern drawl comes out and I smile in spite of myself, shaking his hand. "I'm Li-Jade. My name is Jade," I repeat to verify, smacking myself internally for almost letting my name slip.

It takes me a couple of seconds to notice that Brett still has a grip on my hand and is running his thumb down my index finger. I pull my hand away and lean back in my chair, avoiding his tawny eyes as I bite my tongue to hold in a nervous giggle. He folds his arms and rests them on the table, looking at me with fluid eyes as he observes quietly, "That's a cute little accent ya got there."

I wish I could tell him I come from Costa Rica or England, because there is _nothing_ sexy about Canada…except Ryan Reynolds, of course. Wait, maybe I can! I mean, this is all an act— although so far, Brett has been most of the playing while I've been smiling like a bubblehead. It's time to take control and ignore the fact that he is drop-dead gorgeous.

"I'm from Toronto, Ontario," I fib and he cocks his head in confusion. "In Canada," I add, and recognition lights up his eyes.

"That's a long way to travel just to come see little ol' me," he teases, and I feel the colour rise in my face when he smiles cheekily. He reaches across the table to rest a hand on my forearm and my skin prickles in excitement.

"Actually, I'm here to train in the performing arts," I explain as Brett shifts his chair from the opposite side of the table to right beside me. "I got a scholarship. I'm here for the year to learn about musical theatre."

"Mmm, so you're smart _and_ talented? Looks like they breed 'em well in Canada," Brett compliments, flicking his dark hair out of his eye and finishing with another pearly smile. Suddenly the waitress from earlier comes over, surprised to see Brett next to me instead of Raph. She gives me a nasty look and turns to Brett, asking, "Would you like anything?"

"Two American Sweethearts," Brett says before I can even utter a 'No thank you'. I shake my head and slide my arm out of his hold, insisting, "Really, I don't—"

"Don't worry," he cuts across me, "It wouldn't be mannerly of me to let you pay for your own drink." But I don't _want_ one! The waitress blows away on an icy breeze before I can protest, and when I turn to politely tell Brett that I don't drink, I find myself paralyzed by his beautiful eyes, his lips curled in a smirk and his hair falling perfectly across his forehead. One drink couldn't hurt, right?

Wrong.

When the waitress brings by our drinks, practically spilling mine on my lap, I hesitantly lift my glass, covertly watching Brett as I do. He raises his glass to his lips and tips his head back, downing the whole thing in one gulp. I take a sip, and suddenly my mouth and throat are assaulted by a sharp, bitter flavour. I set my glass down and blink furiously to keep my eyes from watering, a small cough escaping my lips. Brett looks concerned as he asks, "Are you alright?"

"Great," I reply, my throat raw like sandpaper. He waves over a waitress and asks for water, the girl returning in less than a minute. I take a huge gulp and sigh in relief, wiping the moisture from my eye as I push the drink far away from me. So much for _sweetheart_. This is just one more reason to dislike alcohol: it spontaneously combusts when you swallow. Once the crisis is averted, Brett chuckles and says, "I take it that's your first drink, eh?"

"Good guess," I reply, laughing a little less enthusiastically. His laughter dies down and he orders another drink—this time a Bud Weiser—sending the waitress off with a flashy smile. I study Brett more closely, noting his grin is forced, his eyes disconnected with his twin rows of gleaming teeth. The drink arrives, and he finishes it while carrying on a one-sided conversation about his plans for the fall. He's a second year business student at Baruch College and grew up in Tennessee with his three brothers and divorced father. I haven't had to do more than hum interestedly or say "I see" in thirty minutes.

Brett looks at me with heavy-lidded eyes, his smile lazy as he places his hand on my thigh. I feel my heart drum faster in my rib-cage and I shift uncomfortably in my seat, letting his hand fall from my leg. He moves closer and takes my hand, putting it dangerously close to his crotch as he leans in to touch his lips to my neck. I pull my hand back, stammering, "I don't think—"

"You don't have to think, just go with it," he murmurs hoarsely, his hand sliding up the side of my shirt as he nips at my earlobe. Okay, that's enough. I unravel his tentacles and retreat to the back of my seat, hoping he'll take the hint. His brow furrows in displeasure and he asks, "What's wrong, darlin'?"

Now his accent's getting _really_ annoying. When I fail to say anything after a few seconds, he leans in again and I hold out a hand to keep him at bay. His palm lands on my lower back and he pins my hands with his opposite arm, trying to kiss me. I turn away, saying firmly, "Stop it!"

Suddenly, Brett is hauled from his seat, freeing my hands and allowing me to breathe properly. I turn to see Raph holding him by the shirt collar, his eyes narrowed in anger and his free hand balled in a fist. Through bared teeth, Raph snarls fiercely, "_Leave her alone_."

Raph glares down at him for a long moment then releases Brett. It takes the boy all of three seconds to snatch up his coat and reach the door, leaving the bar without a backward glance. When Raph turns his harsh look to me I glance down in shame. Searching for a something to say, all I can come up with is a mumbled, "I'm sorry."

He stares at me with disappointment blazing in his eyes and for a second it's like I'm looking at Leo instead of Raph. However, when he speaks, I'm reminded that I would be better off with Leo.

"You're damn lucky I was here," is all Raph says as he plops down into his seat, frowning at the tabletop. I watch Raph avidly as he broods, wondering what he thinks of me after my shameless display. Gosh, I am so _stupid._ _Why _did I think flirting with the first guy I saw would be a good acting exercise? All it did was put me in a bad situation that I had to be rescued from, and ruin whatever groundwork I had with Raph.

I peek up at Raph and catch him glancing away, smiling to myself when I realize I'm not the only one who's watching. It's time to salvage this.

"By the way," I say, my voice sounding too loud over the deep cavern of quiet between us. He doesn't raise his eyes but I sense that he's listening, so I press on, "Thank you for helping me out. I would have been in trouble if you hadn't showed up, so…thanks."

I wait patiently for a response, even an affirmative grunt. After a long moment of thought, Raph looks up at me, his eyes illegible as he studies my face. I make sure to appear sincere and apologetic, holding my breath in anticipation of his verdict. Raph finally releases a sigh and answers, "You can pay me back by interviewin' me and writin' something nice 'bout it. We got a deal?"

I can hardly speak. He's going to let me _interview_ him? After all that? This is the best day ever! My grin is enormous as I prepare to take him up on his offer, when he adds as an after thought, "Oh, and one more thing: You have to answer a question."

"Sure," I reply gamely, smiling at him with gratitude. "Anything at all!"

He smirks, and I discover I've stepped into a trap of Raph's design. Oh no.

"Do you have a thing for Donnie?" he asks in a low voice as he leans over the table, raising an eye ridge suggestively. My face becomes a red hot stove element, my smile melting and my cheeks coming to a full boil. I definitely walked into that one.

"Well I…um…w-why do you… I suppose it's a fair question, but…uh…" I fish around a diversion, but it's clear that Raph won't accept any of my lame excuses. I guess admitting to Raph that I like Don won't _kill_me, right?

…yeah, I'm not convinced either.

"Okay, yes. Yes I do," I finally reply, and Raph's face stretches into a triumphant smile, making my cheeks turn redder. He shakes his head and chuckles to himself, saying, "I knew it!" Was I really that obvious about it? Laughing to himself, Raph crows, "Wait 'til I tell Mikey!"

My stomach drops and my eyes practically pop out of their sockets, my remaining cool disappearing in a puff of smoke. Trying my best not to lunge frantically across the table and grip the front of Raph's sweater as I beg, I practically shriek, "Nonononono, you can'ttell_ anyone!_ Please don't say anything, _please_?"

Raph laughs at my pleading, and he teases, "I don't think ya can stop me."

I'm doomed! I'll have to change my name, leave home, and take up residence in some strange city…Oh wait, I already did that. What am I going to do? As I'm panicking, I see something I didn't notice before. There's a faint red mark on Raph's jaw that resembles a lip print.

"I guess I can't," I consent, masking my smile as I pull a napkin from the dispenser. I reach across the table and wipe the smudge off of Raph's face, showing him the red stain as I continue, "Unless, of course, I was to threaten to tell your family about our _lovely waitress _Jessica."

I smirk as Raph's eyes widen, both of us knowing the kind of reaction he'd get at home if I shared this "interaction". He'd be scolded by Leo and his father, tortured by Mikey, and scientifically analyzed by Don. Based on Raph's facial expression, I've got him right where I want him. Hesitating for a few seconds to weigh the risks against the benefits, Raph reluctantly concedes, "I won't tell, alright? Yer secret's safe."

"Thank you," I reply contentedly, grabbing a handful of napkins and digging a hand in my pocket for a pen. When I find one, I uncap it and smooth out my pile of napkins, smiling as I urge, "Now, about my interview."

_Looks like I come out victorious again! _:D  
_I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. Guess who's next? I'll give you a hint: He's green, purple and a__**dork**__able all over That's right, it's Donnie!  
__Thanks so much for reading, and please review!_

_The Light of Reason _


	8. The Insomniac Midnight Support Group

_Disclaimer: I do not own the TMNT or any associated characters. They belong to…Nickelodeon? Yeah, I think that's it, although by now it could be Disney. No one really knows at this point.  
So, the last chapter was…uh…interesting? I'm an idiot, that much has been cleared up. Now, it's time for another interview, and guess who it's going to be? That's right, it's Donnie! I'm extremely excited _:D_  
I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please review, because they fuel my insanity!  
Don: PLEASE DON'T! _D:

_Me: Oh, hush up._

_On with the show!_

_PS—overusing exclamation marks is bad grammar! I learned that from my math teacher _:)

**Don's Perspective**

The computer screen begins to blur, my equations turning into alphabet soup before my very eyes. I chance a glance at the clock beside my bed and groan when I see it's already 11:52 p.m. I've barely made any progress! Of course, having to take Jade to University this morning was a set back. Let me explain.

After Raph and Jade disappeared the other night, Leo nearly burst a vessel, calling Raph's Shell Cell every ten seconds…until he realized Raph's phone was not only off—dead, more accurately—but at home. When they returned, Leo was _way _past pacing; he had begun calling all of our friends, asking if any of them had seen Raph. After a thorough lecture, Leo decided that Jade would need to be closely supervised when topside. Raph objected to Leo deeming Jade 'unsupervised' that night, which led Leo to specify that Raph in his inebriated state wasn't enough supervision, especially based on what happened at the bar when Raph left Jade alone. That episode was _not_ well received by Leo. Now, he has a color-coded schedule—word processed by myself—for Jade's drop offs and pickups at the University. And today was my day. Lucky me.

The traffic in town was awful, and we idled for almost twenty minutes at each red light. When we finally reached the school, Jade leapt out of the vehicle and snatched up her bag, throwing a "Thank you!" over her shoulder and bolting for the door to make it to her first class on time. As I watched her mount the steps, I couldn't help feeling jealous sending Jade off to experience University and all the world's adventures; something I'll never be able to do.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself! You still need to run a diagnostic scan on the security system, de-bug the above-ground camera's software, revise the blueprints for the new rocket fuelled Battle Shell engine, _develop_ the rocket fuel for said engine, analyze the latest water samples—

_Coffee._ It is the only logical alternative to sleep at this hour. With any luck, the pot I brewed a few hours ago hasn't been emptied by Leo and will still be moderately drinkable after a zap in the microwave…which I also have to fix. That settles it: I need to make a new pot.

I heave my bones from my rolling chair and stumble out of my room, staggering to the dimly illuminated kitchen in a haze. I fire up the coffee machine on autopilot, turning from the counter with a fatigued sigh. I nearly jump when I see Jade seated at the table with a textbook open in front of her, printing something neatly on a series of lined cue cards. She looks up and smiles at me, answering my unvoiced question: "I've been here the whole time. You were walking around like a zombie, so I was worried to say anything in case you got scared and tried to eat my brains."

Firstly: What?

And Secondly: _What?_ That makes absolutely no sense, and I live with _Mikey_, the same turtle who vampire-proofed the lair two weeks ago and managed to convince Sensei to wear a "protective" helmet constructed with a silver mixing bowl, two plastic forks and uncooked macaroni. Please don't ask. I'd prefer not to go into further detail.

After a brief pause, Jade giggles girlishly to herself, then covers her eyes with her hands and moans, "I have to finish this so I can go to_ sleeeeeeep_!"

I have studied such behaviour the majority of my life, and I have discovered that the most appropriate response is to go about your own business and leave as soon as possible. When she doesn't seem to have anything else to say, I return my attention to the coffee maker, watching the stream of rich brown consciousness pour into the collecting basin. I hear Jade sigh and flip the crisp page of her textbook with a rustle, mumbling something in French to herself. I'm not fluent in French, but I _did_ study it for a year when I was twelve. A side project, of course. I tune in to her mutterings and decipher that she is preparing an oral report for her French class about the American Revolution…or mere cats. I'm not an avid French-speaker, alright?

"_…donc, cet homme a vécu aux Arras pour quarante ans avec ses trois enfants et sa femme…_uh_…sa femme…_darn it!" Jade cursed quietly, ending her impressive French monologue abruptly. I turn to see her flick feverishly though her text book, finding her page in little time and scribbling down a name on her note card. At this point she glances up at me and smiles tiredly, speculating, "I take it you're busy tonight, too?"

"Yeah, I have to run some diagnostics and revise some blueprint designs, followed by a water purity analysis…" I trail off when she pushes out of her seat and advances toward me, reaching into the cupboard above my head for a glass. She fills it from the tap and holds it out to me, raising her eyebrows expectantly. I hesitate before taking the glass from her and take a small sip, wondering what she's doing.

"At this hour, the only thing that should be entering your system is water," she advises, giving my coffee a pointed look which I choose not to acknowledge. When she feels she's made her point, Jade returns to the table and collects her note cards, lining up the corners neatly. Jade closes her book with a decided thump and caps her pen, turning back to me with cue cards in hand. Bashfully, she looks down at her toes and smiles to herself, looking back up at me imploringly. Oh no. This can't be good. I steel myself for a request as Jade takes in a breath and ventures, "Look, I have to give a presentation tomorrow about an influential artist, and I'm a little nervous. Would you mind being my audience?"

Feeling self-conscious, I throw the clock on the wall a covert look, seeing it's almost midnight. I suppose I could spare a few minutes to listen to her oral report. I smile sheepishly and reply, "Not at all, but I must warn you: I haven't brushed up on French in a while."

Jade shrugs at me and jokes, "Neither have I!" She then gestures to the chair behind her and offers, "Take a seat, if you like."

I comply, knowing it will be more comfortable to sit, and wait patiently for Jade to start. She centers herself in front of me and holds up her cue cards, raising her eyes when she's ready to begin. She speaks flawlessly in a melodious, animated voice, maintaining eye contact save for the occasional glance at the cards in her hands. I don't understand everything, but I get the gist of her report. When she concludes her presentation, I applaud politely, smiling at her.

"That was great!" I say honestly, although with my lack of fluency in French it probably shouldn't be a reliable opinion. However it seems to be exactly what she wanted to hear. Jade beams back at me happily, teasing, "It may have been better if it wasn't past midnight."

We both glance at the clock to see it reads 12:14 a.m. and my fatigue suddenly hits me, a glancing blow to the small amount of willpower to stay awake I still possess. I run a hand over my face, dreading the inevitable pile of work that awaits me at my computer station. Rubbing my eyes tiredly, I mutter to myself more than Jade, "I don't think I can get through this night!"

"Then don't," Jade suggests simply. When I shoot her a questioning look, she rationalizes, "You'll probably be unable to function and make sloppy errors you'll have to clean up tomorrow morning anyway, so why not go to bed at a decent hour and tackle the job tomorrow morning with a clear head?"

I don't like it, but she has a good point. Earlier, I caught myself trying to write down a couple of side notes with my coffee-stirring spoon. Maybe if I get a few hours of sleep, I can wake up an hour before practice and get some work done. I can probably finish the diagnostic scan and do half of the blue-print revisal in sixty minutes if I'm uninterrupted. I look at the coffee I prepared, which is unexpectedly very unappetizing, and conclude that a fresh start tomorrow is a much better idea. I lift the container from its base and pour my liquid gold down the drain, a wave of relief washing over me.

Jade yawns behind her hand, agreeing, "A good night's sleep will be good for you, and tomorrow you'll be energized and ready for anything. I'm off to bed, before I pass out right here."

I smile at her sense of humor, her personality as friendly as ever even at this late hour. She turns to leave, pausing to face me a second later. She raises a finger and begins, "Before I forget, I was wondering if I could ask you for an interview?"

"I—" I break off, unsure of how to respond to her request. On the one hand, Leo, Mikey and Raph are still alive, so she can't be too dangerous. On the other hand, she's a crazy fan girl and _nothing_ good can come from that. My mouth opens and closes like a speechless goldfish, my extended vocabulary swiftly absent the moment I need it most. She sighs and smiles dejectedly, reminding me, "These interviews _are_ optional. If you're not interested, I won't pressure you."

"No, I'd like to," I blurt. Why did I say that? My mouth went on cruise control, and all of a sudden I lost control and hydroplaned into this interview! What have I done?

But then Jade's face instantly brightens with a dazzling smile, her warmth convincing me I made the right choice. I review tomorrow's schedule in my head briefly, asking, "What's a good time for you?"

She wrinkles her nose thoughtfully, deliberating for a long moment before she replies, "Nothing's open until the end of the week. How about late Friday afternoon?"

"Sounds great," I respond leniently, too tired to dodge her intentions and craving my warm bed. She grins broadly and exclaims ecstatically, "Awesome! I'll see you Friday at five in the living room."

Jade turns to leave again, then stops herself, adding as she faces me, "One more thing."

"What?" I ask warily, worried she'll talk me into something else just as easily as she did with my interview.

Jade's smile softens and she says graciously, "Thank you so much for everything. For driving me to school, for giving me an interview, for helping me with my presentation, and most importantly for letting me stay. I'm really grateful for all of the things you and your brothers have done for me." She glances down shyly, mumbling, "You're great friends."

I did not expect that. I blink in surprise and manage to reply dumbly, "You're welcome," and she smiles happily. Giving a little wave, she orders kindly, "Get some sleep. 'Night, Don!"

"Goodnight," I answer dazedly as she scurries off to bed with her textbook pressed to her chest, laughing to myself in admiration of her endless energy.

I slump back to my own room and pause in the doorway, scrutinizing its interior. My neatly made bed, my rows of filing cabinets and the avalanche of papers on my work bench are bathed in the iridescent glow of my computer monitor, making everything appear lonely and barren in the semi-darkness. I walk to my desk and, for the first time in many weeks, I completely shut-down the computer. When the familiar whirring of the fan ceases, the room sounds terribly quiet. I grope along the wall to find my bed and collapse into it with a screeching of springs, wrapping myself snugly in the blankets. In no time, my system shuts down and I am fast asleep.

_How cute Donnie went to beddy-bye  
So I have another interview lined up for myself. I__ am sooooo good _:)

_I hope you enjoyed the chapter, the next will be up soon. Please review!_


	9. According to Plan

_Disclaimer: I do not own the TMNT, but I do own myself _:)

_Well, after an extended hiatus, here is Chapter 9! It's time for an interview with Donnie! I hope you enjoy, and please review!  
PS-this is from my perspective. Okay, go!_

It's the big day! Today is the day I will interview the love of my life—or, depending on how you look at it, the object of my obsession. Either way, I'm all smiles as I plunk down on the school steps to wait for my ride.

The massive exodus of students has left the school courtyard deserted and silent, save for a crispy brown leaf scuttling over the asphalt. My legs bounce with nervous energy and I pound my fists on my knees as I chant, "C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon _c'moooooooooon_!"

I glance at my watch, confirming that Raph is indeed late. As I return my gaze to the main entrance of the school, I plead aloud, "Where are you, Raph? Time is of the essence; my knight in shining armour awaits!"

Surprisingly, this does not magically summon the person in question. I abandon all illusions of politeness and mutter irritably, "Raph, if you don't get your shell here _now_, I'm going to kill you!"

I am jolted out of my murderous musings by the sound of the school door swinging open behind me. I turn and feel my stomach do a small leap. Alex Durai, the most talented—not to mention most handsome—student in first year is standing on the stoop behind me. According to a survey taken by all of the freshmen girls, he is a hot tamale. Not that I'm interested…

Okay, maybe a little, but picture this: warm mocha skin, trim ebony hair, and dark eyes framed by feathery lashes. All this atop a well-muscled frame in fitted clothing. I approve!

Alex smiles at me—even his teeth are perfect!—and greets, "Hey, you're in my class, right?"

I nod, regaining my senses after a moment of overt gaping and I introduce myself. "Yeah, I'm L—uh, Jade."

I mentally kick myself for the hesitation and ask, "You're Alex, right?"

"That's right," he answers casually, leaning an elbow on the pillar next to him. He gazes out over the empty courtyard and asks absently, "Where are you from again?"

"Canada," I reply automatically, hugging my knees as I explain myself for the hundredth time in the past nine days. "I'm here on a scholarship for the year."

"Oh yeah, you're that 15-year-old prodigy," he recalls, making my face burn with embarrassment. Oh no, what if he thinks I'm an immature, boy-crazy high school girl? 

…Alright, I _am_ an immature, boy-crazy high school girl, but I don't want _him_ to know it!

Alex takes a seat beside me, propping his forearms on the tops of his thighs. After a pause he says in a matter of fact tone, "I heard you're really good."

"Word on the street is, so are you," I counter smoothly, pleased that my reply sounds as clever out loud as it did in my head. Alex's appreciative smile gives me confidence. Maybe I'm not as awkward with boys as I thought!

"Thanks," he replies, adding with an adorable grin, "It helps that I'm devastatingly handsome." I laugh although I'm not sure if he's joking. Oh, let's be honest—even if he isn't joking, the boy isn't wrong.

Our laughter subsides, leaving the two of us in a brief silence. Alex shifts his position next to me and starts, "So…"

"So…" I echo nervously, smiling at him. Before I can make an eloquent statement, the Battle Shell rolls to a stop in front of the school with a roaring siren. I recover from the aural assault and make a mental note to blame all future hearing problems on Raphael.

"That's my ride," I say, gesturing to the armoured van hulking at the front gate. Alex stands and courteously holds my backpack as I brush the dust off the seat of my pants in lady-like fashion. I politely thank Alex and take the knapsack, threading my arms thought the straps.

"You're welcome," he replies, shouldering his own bag and shoving a hand casually into his jeans pocket with a jingling of keys. We stand there uncertainly for a few seconds; just long enough for Raph to impatiently slam on the horn again and scare the two of us out of our skins. I smile apologetically as Alex cups his ear and say, "It was nice talking with you."

"You too. I'll see you Monday." At his statement, my stomach twists with what could either be excitement or guilt and I have to swallow in order to reply.

"Yeah, I'll see you then," I agree, glancing down at his sneakers in an effort to stay the blush threatening to bloom over my cheeks. He seems about to add something but never gets the chance, for the Battle Shell's horn blares a third time. I exhale in exasperation, cursing the day I agreed to let Raph transport me to and from school.

Not wanting to chance Raph's wrath any more than I already have, I race down the steps of the school and call over my shoulder, "Bye, Alex!"

I never see his response.

On my way across the courtyard, my mantra consists of, "I'm dead, I'm dead, I am _so_ dead." Upon tugging open the passenger door I cringe, my fears confirmed: Raphael is glaring at me with unadulterated annoyance. He narrows his eyes and growls, "Took ya long enough."

"Sorry," I apologize meekly, flinging my backpack onto the floor and sliding into the passenger seat with a slam of the door. Mistakenly, I assume the discussion is over and watch Alex mount his motorized scooter. The engine roars to life and he zooms away without a backward glance, carving sharply around the corner and disappearing in a cloud of exhaust.

I suddenly come to attention when Raph remarks brusquely, "I ain't yer personal taxi driver."

Avoiding his harsh stare, I fake the inability to buckle my seatbelt in hopes that Raph will give up on me and content himself with aggravated mutterings. I even change the radio from an obscenely loud rock song to a lyrical pop ballad. I sneak a peek at Raph, praying that his rage has dissipated.

No such luck. Raph is still glaring at me with full force. Finally, I break down.

"I'm really sorry, Raph. It's won't happen again," I assure him, smiling sweetly. Temporarily mollified, Raph switches gears and peels from the curb, wordlessly tuning the radio back to its original station. A familiar song crackles from the speakers and I hum along, watching the world whip by through the passenger window.

I pretend to be interested in the pedestrians and cyclists we pass but in reality I'm too confused about my encounter with Alex to process anything. While I talked to him, I was on autopilot. Every reaction was natural, unlike my experience with that Southern hick at the bar last week. I'm no genius when it comes to boys, but even _I_ can tell that Alex was flirting with me. And apparently, so can Raph.

"Who was that guy you were talkin' to?" Raph asks lightly as he executes a smooth lane change. This aggravates another driver who was vying for our spot in the queue and he holds none of his displeasure back. The man lays on the horn and swears loudly, startling me. Raph, however, is desensitized to his foul language and looks at me expectantly for an answer. I reply nonchalantly, "Just some guy in my class."

I can sense Raph studying me dubiously out of the corner of his eye so I pull my agenda from my backpack and busy myself with tomorrow's schedule. As Raph prepares to prod me, the angry driver from a moment before weaves around the Battle Shell and cuts us off. Punching the horn, Raph shouts, "Hey! Watch where you're goin' moron!"

Following this breach of his road-given-rights, Raph resorts to grumbling to himself, forgetting about my talk with Alex. I follow suit, reviewing a mental checklist for this afternoon's interview as we inch along in the late afternoon traffic. A combination of the vibrating vehicle and the muggy air dulls my senses, my mind drifting off track.

_ I am sitting next to Don on the threadbare blue couch, the two of us conversing naturally with smiles on our faces. When one of us speaks, the other scoots closer, a magnetic pull bringing us together. I put down my notebook, leaning in and letting my fingertips hover over his leg as I ask a question. He tilts his face to be level with mine, replying in a low, intimate voice. A stray hair falls in my face and he sweeps it back with a gentle touch, his fingers cupping the back of my head. I rest my hand on his knee cap and our foreheads meet momentarily. A look is shared. He traces the line of my jaw and tips my chin, leaning in to press his lips to mine—_

"Jade!" Raph calls out and I jump in my seat, eyes wide in bewilderment as I return to reality. Raph's expression makes it clear that this isn't the first time he's called my name.

"Yeah?" I slur dazedly, wary of his reaction to my space out. If he knows I was thinking about Don, I'm doomed! I'll have to lock myself in the guestroom until the teasing lets up. Or I'm dead. The latter is _far_ more likely.

"We're back," Raph says simply and my paranoid speculations come to a screeching halt. I blink dimly, wondering exactly where we are; then, I remember our destination.

"Oh yeah," I comment dumbly, glancing around the garage in confusion. How long have we been sitting here with the engine turned off and Raph trying to snap me out of my trance? My guess is too long.

Realizing that I'm still dazed, Raph speaks more slowly.

"We can get out of the car now," he says as he opens the driver's door in example. I nod obediently and copy him, hopping out of the vehicle with my backpack over my shoulder. Following Raph to the elevator, I silently fret that he knows what I was daydreaming about. I try to rationalize that if Raph had any idea what I was imagining, he would have made a joke by now. However, suspicion makes me fear he's waiting for the opportunity to share my secret with a larger audience.

Raph frowns at me as I silently melt into hysterics and comments with bemusement, "You're quiet. I thought you'd be all excited about yer interview?"

My inter-what? Oh…_Oh!_ What time is it?!

I glance at my watch and mouth, "SHOOT!" dramatically, stabbing the elevator button and dancing in impatience. As I wait for the doors to open, I mutely beg, threaten, curse and solicit the elevator to hurry up. All is in vain; the stone doors will not open any sooner because of my rush.

When the doors finally peel away I lunge through the gap and resume my bouncing, frantically waving for Raph to get inside. He half smiles, mumbling as he steps into the elevator, "That's more like it."

The moment the elevator doors open wide enough for me to slip through I bolt through the gap, almost smacking my elbow. As I race to the guestroom, Mikey emerges from his room and steps into my path, reeling backward when I zip by.

"Hey Mikey!" I greet breathlessly as I pass, sticking my hand up in greeting. Once I enter the guestroom, I lose no time in tossing my backpack onto the bed and retrieving my notes. It takes me a few seconds to dig a pen out of the front pocket of my backpack and find my tape recorder under my copy of _Romeo and Juliet _but I'm ready with eight minutes to spare.

I leave the room and take the stars two at a time, freezing in my tracks at the base of the steps. My eyes narrow on Mikey, who sits ignorantly on the living room couch playing a game of Mario Party. How _dare_ he jeopardize my afternoon with Donnie!

It's time to flush out the pest.

"Mikey," I begin with a friendly smile on my face, hoping to lull him into a false sense of security. It works like a charm.

The innocent little turtle looks up at me and smiles unwittingly as he asks, "What's up, dudette?"

What's up? Well, you are currently occupying the couch where my future husband and I will have our first real conversation and fall in love. If you value your life, I suggest you _**LEAVE**__._

Fortunately, I am much more polite out loud. Striding calmly to the couch, I respond amiably, "Don and I were planning on having our interview here in a few minutes."

Mikey blinks at me, utterly clueless, and returns to his game.

"Don't let me bother you two," he says passively, dodging to the side as Bowser takes a swipe at Mario on the screen. I inhale deeply and decide to reason with Mikey.

…I'm clearly desperate if I'm willing to reason with Mikey.

"Actually Mikey, I was hoping that we could be alone for the interview," I explain patiently, suppressing the urge to shove him off the couch. His reluctance is evident in the way his grip tightens instinctively on the controller. Mikey looks up at me and with practiced ease, his blue eyes mist over pathetically. Oh, no. There is no _way_ he's going to get me with those puppy-dog eyes.

Ignoring his shameless manipulation techniques, I remind Mikey, "_You_ had a private talk with me for your interview. It only seems fair that Don has the same opportunity, right?"

"I guess so," Mikey concedes tentatively, lowering the game controller. Mischief flashes momentarily in his eyes and Mikey asks with a smile playing about his lips, "Why do you want to be _alone_ with Don?"

I'm floored by Mikey's remark, wondering how _he_ of _all people_ discovered my crush on Don. Logic points toward Raphael. He will be receiving a thorough interrogation after this interview.

I plaster a smile on my face and reply, "Because interviewees are much more comfortable when they don't have spectators."

Judging by his expression, he doesn't believe me. Still, Mikey turns off the game console and places his dormant controller on the machine. Relief crashing over me, I arrange my supplies on the table systematically, taking extra care to place the tape recorder closer to Don's seat. Satisfied with my layout I straighten up, only to see Mikey skulking around, throwing longing glances at the television.

I brainstorm quickly for a distraction that will get Mikey out of the way. Within a second, I'm struck by an idea and I smile in spite of myself. Using a tone reserved for young children, I coax, "If you give us some privacy, Mikey, you can use my i-Pod during the interview."

His face lights up like a Christmas tree and I know I've found his weakness. He tackles me in a hug that squeezes the breath from me and just as quickly bolts to my room, calling over his shoulder, "Thanks, Jade!"

Success! I do a fist pump, my breath catching in my throat when a familiar voice observes from behind me, "Mikey's happy about something."

I whirl around to face Don, opting for a friendly smile instead of a muscle shattering grin. I shrug my shoulders and point out brightly, "Mikey's always happy!"

Don smiles at my remark, leaning casually on the back of the couch as he takes in my set up. After a couple seconds, Don looks back up at me and jokes, "I heard that someone was going to interview me?"

Flustered, I simper and reply with a grand gesture, "Take a seat."

Once he is seated comfortably on the couch I sit in the leather recliner across from him, resting an elbow on the arm of the chair. I apologize for my lack of preparation by explaining, "Sorry I'm a bit late, but I was interrupted by Mikey."

Don's expression conveys that he understands Mikey-related disruptions and he empathizes, "It happens to the best of us."

I giggle as I open my notebook to a fresh page, dating and titling the page neatly. I tap the red button on the tape recorder and tuck my legs underneath me, the notebook resting idly on my lap. I smile up at Don, who looks fairly relaxed despite his reluctance to grant me an interview. Lightening the mood, I propose cheerfully, "Alright, let's get started!"

He nods in response and I venture, "What kind of personality do you have?" I twirl my pen between my fingers thoughtfully as Don ponders my question, his brow creasing gently and his mouth twisting at the corner. He's so _cute_—Argh! Focus, brain!

Completely unaware of my struggle to maintain a professional attitude, Don responds, "I suppose you could call me an introvert, although I have many good friends. I just like spending time alone sometimes." I smile encouragingly as I jot down some notes, hanging onto his every word like a brazen fan girl. Don continues, "I'm reserved, and I avoid conflict if possible. I'm not outgoing like my brothers, but I'm confident in my abilities."

I follow with another more general question: "What are your favourite activities?"

"I like reading classic literature as well as Sci-fi. I enjoy books about engineering, pure sciences and computer programming. Basically, anything I can get my hands on," Don answers, smiling nostalgically as he notes, "It was nearly impossible to manage my curiosity when I was young. Master Splinter had a difficult time keeping me occupied."

I immediately bite into this surprising new plane of Don's personality. Trying not to betray my fascination, I lean forward and ask, "Would you say you were a…problem child?"

Don smiles at some fond memory I'm not privy to and replies cryptically, "I'm more inclined to the term "inventive", although I caused my fair share of trouble."

"Let me guess: experiments?" I ask. His cheeks redden and a sheepish smile takes over his lips, confirming my speculations. I laugh, reflecting on my own shenanigans when I was a child and comment, "I was never one to back down from a challenge—especially if said challenge was a rule."

"That's hard to believe," Don chuckles, his sarcasm kind as opposed to condescending.

Playing along, I quip, "My navigation of the New York City sewage system to find your home was not an isolated incident of determination and insanity."

He laughs again and I dip my head, hiding the pleased flush that blooms over my face. Once the heat in my cheeks has subsided, I scan the list and choose a serious question. My voice gentle, I ask, "Was survival a challenge when you were young?"

Don's brow crinkles severely, his mouth drawn as he forms his next sentence.

"We were never a family you'd consider wealthy, but we have been very lucky," Don answers. Earnestly he insists, "We had the necessities, and most importantly we had each other to depend on."

Don encompasses the interior of the lair with a sweeping gesture as he adds, "As you can see, we have become more resourceful in recent years."

I tilt my head to the side and ask, "How have you supported yourselves?"

He laughs self-consciously and replies, "We've had to do many things for income. I'm currently an IT tech support personnel, but my work endeavours include investment advising, an online advice column for teens and English tutoring for Japanese immigrants."

I raise my brows in surprise, wondering how he found the time for so many jobs. Copying down his list of employments, I ask if he's the only one who works in the family.

Don replies, "Although I've had the most jobs in the past three years, my brothers have all taken a stab at the working world. For a few months, Mikey and Raph collaborated on old skateboards they found at the dump—Raph on mechanics, Mikey on paint detail— and sold them for a decent profit. As for Leo, I helped him scan requested kanji art for customers that he did in his spare time; that is, when he _had _spare time. These were all brief stints, but Mikey has always wanted to get into the entertainment business, so who knows?"

I smile and tease Don, "I already guessed that you're a working boy. What do you do when you have a rare free moment?"

"I usually work on my latest project," he answers decisively, adding as an afterthought, "I also spend time reading, tinkering with the Battle Shell or watching a nature program on TV."

I smile encouragingly and jot down a handful of words, reminding myself that if I miss anything I can always get it when I listen to the recording later. Thank you, technology!

"So, Don," I continue conversationally, taking care to angle my list of questions so he can't see them, "I asked fellow fan fiction authors to suggest questions and there was a great response. I have a few here that you might find interesting."

Don looks doubtful of my use of the word 'interesting' but says bracingly, "Let's hear them."

Glancing down the list, I stop near the middle and ask, "Which brother do you feel closest to?" He mulls over my question as I peer at him quizzically, my pen hovering over my notebook. I wait quietly as his brow lowers over his eyes, a wrinkle forming above his beak. It takes me a few seconds to realize that Donatello is struggling to think of a specific time he felt close to one of his brothers.

Feeling guilty for bringing it up, I almost retract my question. Before I can take a breath, Don finally answers, "I guess you would say it's Mikey, since I spend the most time with him." His eyes cloud over as he murmurs, "Although that wasn't always the case."

"No?" I ask softly, urging him on. When Don looks up at me again, the cloudiness in his irises has vanished, replaced by a cool, calculating air. I realize with a lurch of dread that I've stepped into some uncharted territory.

"Leo had more time to spend with us when he was younger, but we aren't children any more," Don concludes curtly, trying to close the subject. However, my concern has been roused.

"It must be difficult to discuss your interests with your brothers," I press, hoping that he won't take offense to my prying. He shrugs his shoulders, suddenly unwilling to respond.

"What about Leo? Were you two close?" I ask outright, going for the direct approach.

Don appears to be grappling with himself, torn between telling mel and keeping it trapped inside. I lower my notebook and reach forward, pausing the recording. He frowns in confusion and I assure him, "It's off the record."

"Our relationship is strained at best," Don replies, his mood taking a turn for the worse. Always loyal, Don insists, "Leo has a lot of responsibility. It's difficult for him to maintain the house with the pressure we place on him. I can't really blame Leo for getting caught up in his training, or his role as leader. It isn't his fault that we're being hunted, or that Raph is so unruly—"

Don stops as swiftly as he started, leaving us in silence as the normal sounds of the lair continue around us. I moisten my mouth and open it to speak; then, wordlessly I close it. We sit there, separated by only a few feet but feeling as if a huge cavern has formed between us. Attempting to build a bridge across this gap, I pluck up the courage to ask, "How do the conflicts between Leo and Raph affect you?"

He is intent on looking anywhere other than my face as he replies, "I can handle the tension, although I know that Mikey is upset by it. The fight becomes more heated each time and when it's over, Raph is gone for hours. Sometimes he doesn't come back until the next night."

Don laughs humourlessly and remarks, "Master Splinter believes it's a phase they will grow out of, but I'm afraid it will get worse before it improves."

I consider my response before saying, "I'm sure they'll work it out eventually. I'm not saying sometime in the near future, but eventually. In the meantime, you shouldn't have to worry about their problems."

I wait for Don to look into my eyes before continuing with confidence, "Your brothers care about you. If you tell them how their fights affect the family, they'll stop arguing."

Don blinks, apparently dumbfounded. After a long pause, he asks incredulously, "Whose brothers are _you_ talking about?"

Point taken. I chuckle appreciatively and soon Don joins in. We laugh until our bellies are sore, the formidable subject a mere speck behind us.

I reach across the table and turn the recorder back on, simultaneously reading, "Here's the next question, also from an author. Have you ever been outsmarted?"

Don laughs and leans his head back against the couch, covering his face with his hands for a moment.

"Do I have to tell you?" he groans, his voice muffled by his fingers.

"Please?" I beg, smiling as flawlessly as I can. He sighs and sits back up, leaning his forearms onto his thighs. When a few seconds go by without an answer, I prompt, "Well?"

"I'm trying to pick the most embarrassing," Don replies patiently.

"Alright, I have it," he says after another pause, his mind made up. I lean forward eagerly as he begins, "When I was about thirteen, we got our first working computer. It fascinated me and I spent every possible moment figuring out its programs, often ignoring my other responsibilities. Well, Master Splinter and Leo disapproved of my extended computer usage, but neither of them could coax me away from it. I had a severe addiction to it."

"It was worse than it is now?" I blurt, forgetting myself for a second. Instead of bristling at the jibe, Don smiles sheepishly and shrugs, not denying my statement.

"Anyway," he continues and I return my attention to the page where I'm scribbling the details of his story, "Leo got fed up with my preoccupation with the computer. So one day, he snuck into my lab and stole the manual I had found near the computer when we picked it up. He spent a few days studying it covertly. I was completely unaware of his plan to shut me down.

"One day after training, I went into my room to continue my work on the computer. I was in the middle of graphing data on my recent findings on the correlation between the humidity of the environment and overall plant growth. When I sat down in my chair and clicked to turn it on, the screen came up blank. Of course I panicked, thinking that all of my data had been erased; however, it turned out that Leo had locked the computer, using a code.

"I went to everyone in the house, starting with Mikey out of habit, demanding who had done it. Leo was my last suspect and he was waiting for me in the dojo; a little smug, although he would never admit it. He told me what he had done and when I demanded the code, he replied that he would give it to me if I completed a series of challenges. After each completion, I would receive the next letter or number in the sequence."

Shaking his head slightly, Don says incredulously, "There were fifteen characters."

"What did you do?" I ask. Don smiles tiredly and replies, "I did the challenges, of course, which were just the katas I had been neglecting. I had no other choice because Splinter refused to intervene. Leo kept his word and gave me the password, but after that I limited my screen time. I couldn't believe that I had been tricked by Leo!"

With a barely concealed smile, I comment, "It seems that you two have quite a bit in common: you're both wicked smart, you're both clever, and you're both easy to trick."

Don gives me a surprised look and I point out, "I managed to convince both of you to let me interview you, didn't I?"

"True," Don cedes, giving me credit where it is due.

I suddenly notice that Don and I have closed the distance between our seats. Not to mention we're also conversing smoothly, which is a first.

Don reclines calmly in his seat as he asks, "Any more questions?"

I glance down at my page and review the list, realizing that we've touched base on all of the interesting questions. I'm a bit disappointed that we're finished; the hour has flown by. As much as I want to continue our chat, I can't make an excuse to extend our interview. I guess I'll wrap it up.

Unfortunately, when I look up into Don's keen face, my stomach gives a nervous flip. The relaxation of his expression is even cuter than his usual sharp, energetic face. In fact, I might go as far as to say that expression is…_ sexy_. His dark eyes suck me in despite my—admittedly weak—attempts to look away.

Without consent from my brain or any of my other sensible organs, I set the notebook aside and reply, "Yes, there's just one more thing."

To his bemusement, I stand and take two strides toward him, stopping dead in front of his seat. I bend down and clap a hand on each cheek, pulling his mouth to mine in a full on kiss.

It doesn't last long, but it certainly does the trick for me. When I pull away, my heart is pounding in my chest like I've just done a sprint.

I can't believe I did that.

I can't _believe _I did that.

I _cannot believe_ I just _did _that!

I simper and defend lamely, "I've always wanted to do that."

Poor Don's face is almost comical, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape in an expression of shock. I realize too late that I may have ruined what little progress I made with that stunt. Thankfully, no one else saw it—

"What was that for?" I hear a familiar voice say. Mine and Don's heads snap in unison toward the source of the sound. Standing to my right, their faces displaying unmasked surprise are Raph, Leo and Mikey. Clearly I spoke too soon; my sole consolation is that Splinter isn't here to view the spectacle I am Ringmaster of.

I am frozen for only a few seconds, unable to speak. Once I regain my faculties of motion, I hastily collect my interview materials, managing to drop the pen three times. My speech soon follows and I say, "Well, that's all the time we have. Thank you for your time, Don, and if I need any more I'll know where to go."

I pause for a moment, registering how my statement could be misinterpreted in a less innocent way. Internally doing a facepalm, I smile with force and conclude, "I'll be going now."

I beat a swift retreat, leaving the four brothers in the exact same positions as they were when I broke my kiss with Don.

I motor to the guestroom and slam the door behind me, immediately dropping the armload of interview materials on the floor. Pressing the heels of my palms to my cheeks to stay the blush that is threatening to flood them, I lean against the wooden door and groan in frustration.

This interview did _not_ go as planned.

_Well, it turns out I'm just as awkward with boys as I thought. Crazy ideas are generally more intelligent in your head than when they are executed.  
I hope you enjoyed this (EXTREMELY) late update. I mean seriously, a year and a half? What happened to me?  
If this is generally well received, I might get the motivation to finish this story, which would be a first for me. Feel free to review, and have a great day!_


	10. Mikey's Plan

_Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT, they belong to Nickelodeon and Viacom. I do, however, own myself, although you wouldn't be able to tell.  
Here is another untimely update (though I consider it improvement from the previous), about the aftermath of the kiss. Oh my!  
It would have been posted earlier, but I'm unable to resist the power of the Christmas themed plot bunnies! They consume meeeeeeeeeee!  
Okay, I think that's everything. Please enjoy!_

Leo's POV

I can't believe what I just saw. That – that _girl_ who invaded our home, kissing my _brother_ in our _living room_. Seconds ago, she bolted to the safety of her guest room, leaving Don to simply gape in disbelief. I don't blame him for this reaction; it's a major shock.

Mikey, unfortunately, is the first to resume speaking after Jade's graceless exit. He crosses behind the couch and drapes himself over the back, a delighted smirk on his beak. I don't envy Don right now. As anticipated, Mikey pounces on this uncomfortable moment, joking tastelessly, "Well, Donnie-boy, how'd you swing that?"

"I don't…know," Don replies haltingly, still stupefied. I never thought I would see the day when Mikey was more articulate than our resident thesaurus, yet here it is: Don is at a loss for words.

Taking advantage of the circumstances, Raph grins wolfishly and teases, "Don, you sly dog! I didn't know you had it in you!"

All Don can do is scowl at Raph, unappreciative of his insinuation. I refrain from commenting, sensing that Don is less than pleased with being in the spotlight and just wants to drop the subject.

Mikey, always the disturber, grins cheekily and leans in close to Don, asking, "Did you _liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike_ it?"

"No!" Don retorts hotly, his face flushing. Mikey cackles at his own wit, stopping abruptly when Don smacks the back of his skull.

"Owwww! Donnieeeeeee," Mikey whines, nursing his bruise.

Raph appears dubious of Don's rapid response, and he hounds, "Are ya sure, Don? From where I was standin', it looked like you were enjoying yourself."

Before Don can lunge at Raphael, I cut in to prevent a brawl from breaking out.

"Stop it, you two. Imagine how Don must feel!" I scold, hoping this will end Don's torture.

Not so. A wicked smile flickers across Raph's face and he quips, "I think he must be feelin' pretty good, seeing as he got to first base."

I'm a bit ashamed that my laugh is so hard to hold in; however, I elegantly turn my rogue snicker into an unimpressed huff, levelling my best disapproving gaze on Raph. Ever irritating, Raph counters with a challenging smirk.

Regaining my composure, I reiterate more emphatically, "That's enough teasing, Raph."

"Leo's right," Mikey grants, vaulting over the couch and landing beside Don. I'm sceptical of this sudden shift, for when it comes to teasing, Mikey _never_ thinks there is enough.

My suspicions are laid to rest when Mikey grabs a throw pillow from the end of the couch and caresses it like a lover, moaning dramatically, "Oh, Jade! I'm only a nerdy green ninja who lost to Michelangelo, the BATTLE NEXUS CHAMPION, but I love you! Kiss me!"

Childishly, Mikey follows up with some loud, wet smooching noises, driving his face into the couch cushion.

The academy awards should be notified of this performance.

Fed up with the abuse, Donatello throws a punch at Mikey, who dodges and leaps off the couch. The two race around the lair in a chase of cat and mouse, Mikey continuing the kissing noises whenever a pause in his laughter allows. Don, to my surprise, is shouting all sorts of colourful threats worthy of Raphael, his face fierce with annoyance.

As the eldest and the leader, it is my duty to step in to mediate any conflict that arises. And I would, were it not for the surrealism of the scene. More often than not, it is Raph and I who are at odds, so this fight between Mikey and Don temporarily paralyzes me with its unfamiliarity.

Raph is – for once – on the same page, because he looks over at me and remarks, "So this is what it's like to watch us fight, eh?"

"No," I reply, wincing when Don stubs a toe on the coffee table Mikey has shunted into his path and curses under his breath. The prankster giggles, suddenly shrieking when Don whips out his bo staff.

"We're much better fighters."

* * *

Finally, a moment of peace! Raph is up in the garage, working on his bike; Jade has been in her room writing an essay all afternoon; Don is developing a new type of fuel in his lab; and Mikey is annoying him while he develops this new fuel. Everyone is alive and accounted for.

I slip into the dojo and flick off the light, making my way over to my meditation spot on the far side of the room without any light. The layout of the dojo burned into my memory guides me to the bamboo mat, where I swiftly kneel. I know that a few partially melted candles surround my small patch of serenity, and I grope the rough brick wall for the loose brick. Behind this brick is a deftly concealed packet of matches; one can never be too careful with Mikey and fire. I strike a match, illuminating a handful of the white candles. I exhale and sit cross-legged on the mat, preparing for an hour of meditation.

Now if only my mind would calm down for the necessary cleansing. It has been a struggle to maintain the peace between Mikey, Raph and Don for the past few days; a task made even more difficult when coupled with keeping the Incident quiet in front of Master Splinter.

As predicted, Don eventually caught Mikey by outsmarting him – although you'd think Mikey would have realized the unguarded plate of cookies was a trap set for him. I wouldn't have intervened had Don not strapped Mikey to a table in his lab and tried to remove his tongue. Where he got a tongue extractor, I'm afraid to ask. Shortly following my stern conversation with Don about removing siblings' body parts, it was suppertime.

Unfortunately, this was no better than the afternoon. The silence of the meal was suffocating as Jade and Don refused to speak or make eye contact with anyone. Mikey's jabbering would have been sufficient filler, had he not been entirely focused on embarrassing couple moments from movies. He even managed to get Sensei in on it, our father sharing a few anecdotes from his stories. Mikey would have told Master Splinter about the Incident – as the kiss between Don and Jade has been dubbed – had Raph not given him a solid kick under the table each time he tried to bring it up. I did my part and trained a disapproving glare on Mikey, a threat of many backflips in his future if he didn't keep his mouth shut. After three attempts and three equally harsh kicks, Mikey abandoned the topic.

Two days have since passed and today, I have yet to see Jade longer than two minutes. Mikey drove her to school after practice this morning and Don picked her up a few hours ago, to everyone's chagrin. Upon returning to the lair they each disappeared into their respective rooms without so much as a word. Jade only emerged from her room momentarily for a glass of water this afternoon, murmuring a quick salutation and retreating to her fortress under the premise of writing a paper. Don was (thankfully) not present, for he had shut himself in his lab with no sign of leaving any time soon. His excuse for being in the lab is reasonable: he's developing that new fuel we need for the Battle Shell. A failsafe excuse.

I don't condone avoiding one's problems, but he _is_ being productive. I'll permit him his space for the time being.

I sympathize, in desperate need of space myself. It's a bit disturbing how much of my attention has been on the exchange between my brother and Jade a few days ago.

Hopefully, meditation will assist my focus.

Breathe in…breathe out….breathe in…breathe out…breathe i–

"Leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeooooooooo ooooooooo," I hear Mikey call quietly, his breath tickling my ear.

I momentarily consider ignoring Mikey and pretending that I've slipped into a deeper state of meditation. Then I recall the last time I ignored Mikey during meditation. After five consecutive minutes of poking and prodding, he decided that the most effective way of getting my attention was throwing Klunk at me. I think I speak for both Mikey's cat and I when I say it wasn't.

Wearily I open my eyes and ask with a note of dread, "What is it, Mikey?"

At his impish smile I internally sigh. I know that expression too well, for it has preceded every punishment we have ever received courtesy of Mikey. Not interested.

His eyes shining mischievously in the candle glow, Mikey says in hushed excitement, "I have the _best _idea! But I need your help. Are you in?"

"Mikey, I don't think–"

"Come on!" he insists, hauling me to my feet and dragging me out of the dojo. Resistance is futile against Mikey when he's in this state. I suppose I can spare a few minutes to listen to and refuse to be a part of Mikey's ludicrous plan before resuming my meditation.

When we reach the living room, I see Michelangelo's other reluctant recruits seated on the couch. Raph and Don look just about as enthused about Mikey's 'brilliant' plan as I am.

"Alright, nimrod. Why'd ya drag us out here? Raph demands roughly, his habitual impatience bearing its ugly head.

Mikey clasps his hands behind his back and strides down our informal line, beginning dramatically, "Gentlemen…and Raph."

I inwardly groan at Mikey's use of the word 'gentlemen', sensing that this will be a long-winded speech. Raising his chin importantly, he continues, "I have called you all here to join me in a super top secret mission. It is a recovery operation that will require the utmost stealth and cunning. We, as ninja, are honour bound to fight the oppressor from the shadows; and as brothers, we are bound to stand by each other. Yes, this is a turning point—"

"Speaking of points, Mikey, do you _have_ one?" Don queries, clearly anxious to get back to work.

Mikey deflates slightly, disappointed that he has been interrupted; however, he straightens and explains in simpler terms, "I think we should go into Jade's room and sneak a peek at her notebook."

I know that Michelangelo has some bad ideas, but this has to be one of his worst. Not only would we be invading her privacy, we would also be forsaking the honour we hold in high regard.

…well, _I _hold in high regard.

"Mikey, that isn't a good idea," I rationalize. "It would be rude and unfair."

"Aw c'mon, Leo! Haven't you been dying to know what she writes about us?" Mikey entices, coming closer. With every emphasized word, he takes a step toward me, drawing out, "Don't you want to _know_ what she's posting about _us_ on the _internet_ for the _whole world_ to see?"

I frown; Mikey raises a valid point. Jade could be posting practically anything – including our location. I feel sick just thinking about the pandemonium that would erupt if directions to our lair wound up on the internet. There would be fan girls _everywhere_. I wouldn't have a moment's peace!

Nonetheless, I know it's still wrong. I shake my head, repeating, "No, Mikey, it isn't right. We can't read her secret thoughts."

"Oh, kinda like how she extracted every little detail from us in her so-called interviews?" Raph derides. "Leo, it won't hurt nothin'! She doesn't even have to know."

Don seems to be pondering Raph's logic and he looks at me thoughtfully. Slowly, he ventures, "Well…I guess that we could review it for accuracy."

I'm still torn between my sense of honour and my undeniable desire to read what Jade is writing about us. Breaching Jade's trust would be bad, but allowing her to divulge potentially harmful information about my family would be _worse_.

Reluctantly, I comply, "Alright, we'll do it. But we'll have to be quick, and we can't let her know we read it."

To my mild amusement Mikey jumps up, punching a fist into the air victoriously. He knows that he's manipulated us…again. I'm baffled by how he manages that.

"Righteous!" he exclaims and he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs. Leaning in surreptitiously, Mikey says, "Okay, here's the plan: Raph and I will sneak into Jade's room while Leo, the Master of Stealth, keeps lookout."

"Wait, what about me?" Don asks, suddenly worried that he has been left out of the mission. Despite his initial foot-dragging, he doesn't want to be excluded from the plan any more than he wants to be a part of it. None of us would want to be left out; sibling mentality.

"You, brother, are going to be…how shall I put this…" Mikey clasps his chin thoughtfully, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "The Bait."

When Don doesn't speak, Mikey explains, "All you have to do is get Jade to come out of her room–"

"And how do you propose I do that?" Don enquires warily, his tone implying that he knows the answer.

"Woo her with the old turtle charm!" Mikey declares, as if it were obvious. "A little conversation, some candlelight, a quick kiss—"

"Oh, no! NO! I am _not_ going through that again!" Don protests adamantly, holding his hands up to ward off any further solicitation from his least favourite brother.

"What's the matter? Was she a bad kisser?" Raph teases, fighting the urge to smirk.

"Well, no," Don replies, earning a couple looks. Elegant as always, he quickly recovers, "But that is beside the point! I just…It wouldn't be fair to play with her feelings like that."

"Alright, alright! Chill out, dude," Mikey raises his palms in a calming gesture. "_I'll _handle Jade; you help Raph get the notebook while Leo plays lookout."

I'm pleasantly surprised by Mikey's organization and feel a small surge of pride – even if his plan is intended for evil.

He raises an eye ridge and asks, "Are we agreed?"

The three of us bob our heads in unison.

"Awesome!" Mikey exclaims, jumping to his feet. Excitedly he crows, "It's ninja time!"

I cringe, vowing that I will _never _use that catchphrase. Don merely slaps a hand to his face, already regretting his consent to join this ridiculous scheme. If I'm honest, I'm having second thoughts too.

"C'mon, dweeb, let's get this over with," Raph grouches, giving Mikey's bandana tails a brusque jerk. Unfazed by the lack of eagerness, Mikey bounds toward the guestroom and the three of us follow along more stealthily. Don and I duck behind one pillar while Raph conceals himself behind another, watching Mikey advance to the door.

Always one for drama, Mikey cracks his knuckles, then his neck, before lifting his fist to knock. It hovers in mid-air for a long moment before Mikey frowns, seeming to realize something. He turns back to us and calls in a stage whisper, "I don't know what to say!"

"Just make something up!" Don hisses back, shaking his head at Mikey's hopelessness. It's frightening to think that Mikey is the brains behind this operation. I really need to re-evaluate my decisions.

Mikey purses his lips in thought, humming to himself for a good thirty seconds. Suddenly his face brightens and he almost shouts, "Oh, I know! I'll tell her that an alien parasite has taken over Raph's body and the only way to kill it is with strawberry jam, but we're all out, so she has to go to the store!"

Sometimes, Michelangelo leaves me speechless.

Raph growls irritably and urges, "Dammit, Don, go help him!"

"Fine," Don mumbles, cautiously proceeding to the door. Once level with Mikey, he begins with admirable patience, "Okay Mikey, let's start with a more realistic story–"

"Well, Donnie-boy, you seem to have everything well in hand! Why don't you do it? Thanks, bye!"

Mikey raps on the door and quickly dissolves, reappearing seconds later beside Raph. It takes Don a couple of seconds to recognize that he has been ditched.

"Mikey–" Don starts to say, but he abruptly stops when the guestroom door swings open to reveal a very confused author. I withdraw to my hiding place in a swift motion, certain she didn't see me. And if all goes well, she won't see me.

"Hey, Don," she greets, sounding friendly despite the bemusement that I saw etched into her features. "What's up?"

"I – uh…I wanted to ask you if…um…"

I press my fingers to my eyelids, starting to think we would be better off with Mikey as the distraction. It's so unlike Don to be tongue-tied. Maybe the notion that he has a crush on Jade isn't too far-fetched.

Don is still struggling to say something, his pitch rising steadily through his babbling. Snorting derisively, Mikey whispers from his hiding place, "And he said _my _story sucked."

I catch his eye and make a sharp hand signal, commanding quiet. After all, if I can hear Mikey from fifteen feet away, Jade can probably hear him too. And the thought of having our shells handed to us by an angry fan fiction author isn't comforting.

Putting Don out of his misery, Jade finally interjects, "Listen, Don, I know why you're here."

I go completely still, listening intently. Could she have figured out our plan? No, of course not. She isn't _that_ perceptive. She hasn't noticed yet that Mikey has been using her shower gel for the past three weeks, although I don't think she'd object. It _is_ animprovement over his usual odour.

I take advantage of the momentary pause in dialogue to peer out from my hiding place. Thankfully, in Don's initial attempt to escape he positioned himself just left of the doorway, so Jade has her back partially to me in order to face him. I make brief eye contact with Don, a silent indication for him to respond. I'm fortunate because out of my three siblings, Don is the one I can trust the most to understand me without words.

"What do you mean?" he asks, his voice returning to its normal register.

"You're looking for an apology," Jade states simply. I furrow my brow, wondering how she deduced that from Don's senseless babbling.

Before he can either confirm or deny this, Jade barrels on, "Look, I'm really sorry about what I did the other day, embarrassing you like that. It was rude of me to kiss you without consent. I'm also sorry your brothers have been giving you a hard time about it. I promise it won't happen again. Could we just…" she shakes her head, grasping for words, "forget about it and try to be friends?"

When she talks like this, I almost think she's a rational human being. Then, I'm reminded that she's a fan fiction author and absolutely nothing good can come from that.

"Thanks," Don replies and I'm pleased to hear that he's no longer panicking. "And yeah, I'd like it if we were friends. It would make the drives to and from school far less awkward."

She laughs self-consciously and concurs, "For sure."

They're quiet for a few seconds before Jade gestures to her open door, excusing herself. "Well, I still have to revise my essay. I swear History will be the death of me!"

Although I wasn't keen on this plan in the first place, I now find myself determined to complete the mission. Maybe it's because I hate failure or my curiosity has gotten the better of me, but I have to follow this through. Imagine the humiliation of being bested by a fan fiction author!

I communicate the urgency to get Jade out of the hot zone to Don with my eyes, hoping he'll be able to pull it off.

"Wait!" Don all but shouts, causing Jade to jump. If she hadn't suspected something was up before, she does now. We all wait in the momentary silence as Don pieces together his next sentence.

"Would you like to take a break with me?" he finally asks with a friendly smile.

Jade shakes her head and retreats a step, apologizing, "I'm sorry, Don, I have _so much_ to do–"

"Come on," he insists, gently seizing her wrist before she turns. I raise my brows at this unexpected show of courage, knowing Don is not terribly comfortable with physical contact. Of course, the same can be said for all of us except Mikey. I'm positive that he would wander the streets of New York offering free hugs if we let him.

"You convinced me to take a break," he says, reminding her of some moment they shared that I'm not privy to. "The least you can do is follow your own advice."

She inhales and even from behind I sense that she intends to protest this but Don is in control. He silences her with a raised hand, a skill that I didn't know he possessed.

"Ten minutes," he promises, his eyes meeting hers.

The moment Jade's shoulders relax, I know she has surrendered. It seems Don has picked up some tricks from Mikey, Raph and I when it comes to outwitting a workaholic. And while he doesn't heed our warnings like he should, Don has absorbed our words and now easily turns our tactics of persuasion on Jade. I identify them easily: He employed Mikey's stand-by, which consists of getting the other person to join him for some kind of distracting activity, and I'm almost positive that I've used that tone of voice with him on many occasions. Thankfully, he doesn't use any of Raph's methods, which entail physical force and yelling.

"Alright. _Ten_ _minutes_," she relents, emphasizing the time limit. Her tone conversational, she asks, "So, what did you have in mind?"

"Uh…" Don racks his brains, returning to his more timid nature, "Do you want to have a coffee break in the kitchen?"

Jade smiles and says, "I'll join you, but not for the coffee." Her face now in profile, I see her nose wrinkle as she confesses, "I hate coffee, it smells awful!"

Don's face is totally placid for a second; then, he says with utmost severity, "We can't be friends."

"What?" Jade peers at him quizzically, her face showing confusion.

A few seconds go by before Don replies with a note of humour, "You just insulted coffee, the most delicious of all beverages. Such slander is unforgivable."

At this Jade laughs, Don allowing himself a smile. The girl folds her arms over her chest and quips, "The most potent, perhaps, but certainly not the most delicious." She innocently cocks her head to the side and taunts, "Care to prove me wrong?"

"I'd love to," Don replies without missing a beat, rising to the challenge. I exchange a brief look with Raphael, whose face displays the same expression of disbelief. Is Don, the same turtle who still occasionally blushes and stutters around April…_flirting_? With a fan fiction author?

I'm forced to set aside these musings in favour of shifting my position to remain out of Jade's sight as Don leads her to the kitchen. When she is out of earshot, I gesture for Raph and Mikey to quickly proceed to the guestroom.

Once they slink into the room, I return my attention to my targets, quietly stalking my brother, who no doubt detects my presence, and Jade, who is totally unaware. I duck behind the divider that separates the kitchen from the living area, hearing the sounds of coffee through the plaster wall. The counter, sink, stove and refrigerator are all on the opposite side, propped up by the simple divider. It provides cover for me, and privacy, albeit minimal, for the occupants of the kitchen. I hear the clatter of dishware as Don gathers his supplies, the whir of the coffee machine soon masking any other movements. Considering the fact that Don approaches coffee brewing much like an artist does painting, they'll be in the kitchen for at least ten minutes: sufficient time for Mike and Raph to find the notebook.

…I think.

Don is the first to speak, raising his voice over the dripping of the coffee machine as he asks, "What are you doing?"

"Getting a glass of water, in the event that this coffee tasting goes the way I suspect it will," Jade replies, receiving a laugh.

The putter of the coffee machine slows, and Don resumes motion. I can vividly picture his movements, for I have watched him prepare coffee in an identical manner countless times. I hear the trickle of liquid and imagine Don pouring a cascade of dark brown liquid into two mugs. I've no doubt that Don has chosen the large mug with the Ewok on it for himself; it's his favourite. I then hear the bell-like clink of the spoon tapping the side of the sugar bowl, followed by a few similar sounds as Don stirs in his spoonful of sugar. I then hear Don pad across the floor and open the fridge, asking, "Would you like sugar and milk in your coffee? I hear it's best for first time drinkers."

"It can't be any worse than arsenic, I'm sure," Jade jokes dryly and I picture Don rolling his eyes at her. He prepares the beverage and I hear him command, "Drink it."

Jade sighs and my ears are shortly met with a swallow. Instead of an inquiry from Don, I hear hearty laughter burst forth from my brother. The mug lands on the counter behind my head with a thud and I hear Jade gag, snapping, "I don't see what's so funny, _Donatello_."

"Y-your…your _face_! It…it's-s-s…." Don deserts his attempts to speak then, yielding to the laughter that racks his chest. I hear Jade thirstily gulp down the glass of water and the cup lands on the counter with a loud thud.

"Shut up," she counters playfully as Don's laughter decrescendos into good natured chuckles.

"Alright, I'm sorry. But Jade, your face was priceless!" Don defends, laughing at the memory. "Was the coffee that bad?"

"No, it was worse," she grumbles, refilling her glass from the tap. I hear the scraping of chairs and realize that they have each taken a seat at our small kitchen table.

Don initiates the conversation again, beginning, "So, you've been in your room pretty much all afternoon with that essay of yours." Jade groans in confirmation. "How has school been going, anyway?"

"It's been good," she replies airily. After a second, she adds with a bit of strain, "Busy."

"How so?" Don enquires, pressing for more information.

"Well, of course my professors have been gradually increasing the workload for us," Jade explains, her voice businesslike. "They were easy on us for the first four weeks because they didn't want to scare the freshmen off with the amount of assignments and readings for classes."

She sighs and a chair shifts, my muscles tensing in anticipation. I relax when I determine that was not the sound of Jade pushing out her chair to leave, although I don't let my guard down.

Jade's voice holds a note of uncertainty when she asks, "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Um…sure," Don gives her the go-ahead and I can discern the apprehension.

"Today I had a meeting with one of my professors," she begins and I find myself frowning. She doesn't strike me as a trouble maker. Then again, perhaps her stubborn nature has caused problems at school.

Apparently Don's face conveys the same thought process, for Jade insists, "Don't worry, I'm not in trouble. He just wanted to discuss the school musical with me.

"Because one of the focuses of my education is performing arts, my school puts on a production every year. Last week was the audition period for the show and all of the students are required to prepare an audition. We all try out but only about three quarters of the students get parts on stage. The others are in charge of costumes, lighting, sets, make up and stage crew. There is no guarantee that a student will get in, although one's chances increase when he or she becomes an upperclassmen."

Jade's excitement is now poorly contained, her voice betraying her as she continues, "One of the professors from my audition called me in to his office today and he said that they cast me in a supporting role! That's highly unusual, as freshmen rarely are rarely cast, let alone in a speaking role. He says I'm the youngest student to be in the school's annual production."

"That's great, Jade! Congratulations!" Don applauds her, genuinely excited about her success.

I agree with Don's sentiment, sensing this is a huge accomplishment; however, her last line catches my attention. I had initially estimated she was eighteen, like my brothers and I, or even nineteen. Now, I'm not so sure.

Don is again on the same thought plane, because he asks as delicately as possible, "So, Jade. Uh…exactly how old _are_ you?"

There is definite hesitation on her end, and when Jade finally answers, her voice is tight.

"…Fifteen."

My eyes widen in surprise and I hear Don demand, "Really?"

"Yeah," she replies, sounding embarrassed. Quickly she adds, "But I turn sixteen in October."

"Fifteen," Don breathes, the chair creaking as he leans back. I hear him bark out a laugh and envision him shaking his head.

"What?" she asks.

"Your classmates must not be fond of you," he replies jokingly. "Your scholarship and age were probably intimidating enough, but now that you've been cast in your school's production…" He releases a breath. "From what I've heard, specialty schools are competitive."

"It's been tough making friends," she admits and I find myself surprised by this confession. I've always accepted that my family would be rejected by humans, yet I never expected it to happen to humans. Curious, how susceptible humans are to jealousy.

"I've met a couple people. Abby–she was supposed to be my roommate–and Jeffery, a guy in my dance class. Alex…."

She trails off then and clears her throat, continuing, "But I couldn't say anything to them, in case they weren't cast. I wouldn't want to brag. You're the first person I've told."

I catch a sudden movement in the corner of my eye and my head snaps toward it, my eyes narrowed. In the shadows I see a green hand waving something like a pennant: the notebook.

I nod in understanding and creep from my hiding place, making my way to the dojo under the cover of the few pieces of furniture that are large enough for me to conceal myself with. I wait inside the dojo for a minute before proceeding out to the open area, making a path toward the kitchen. When I enter, Don and Jade are still conversing, although the topic is now Don's most recent invention. I smile pleasantly and set about making some tea, opting not to cut in.

Jade notices me and greets, "Hey, Leo. How was your meditation session?"

"Excellent, thank you," I reply, keeping my shell to her in case my face betrays me. I hear her push back her chair and she leans in beside me, placing her glass in the sink.

"Sorry, but I really have to get back to work," she apologizes, her expression sheepish. Jade smiles at Don and she says, "Thanks again for the chat, Don. I'll see you guys later!"

With a wave she rushes off, her mind already set on her work.

Don and I go about our business for a few minutes, ensuring that Jade is settled in her room before locking eyes. It's time to congregate with the rest of the team.

By some unspoken agreement, we all wind up in Mikey's room, where Raph and Mike have made themselves comfortable. Mikey is sitting on the end of his bed while Raph leans against the wall beside the head of the bed, twirling a sai with a bored expression.

"Did you get it?" I ask, wasting no time.

"Yeah, we found it," Mikey replies, waving the prized object above his head.

"No thanks to _you_," Raphael mutters, shoving his sai into his belt violently. He pushes off the wall and strides past Mikey, taking a swat at him in passing. My youngest brother ducks and shrieks girlishly, bleating, "Raaaaaaaaaph!"

"What took you two so long?" Don wonders and I glance at the clock on Mikey's bedside table. It's after five already? It took us almost half an hour to get Jade out, retrieve the notebook and get her back into her room! Our next training run will be focused on speed as well as stealth.

I look to Raph for explanation and he says, "Sorry, Don, the damn thing was near impossible ta find! She had it stashed in her backpack with all her school notes and stuff." Raph shoots Mikey a glare and concludes, "Then genius over here decided we should start playin' with everythin' in sight."

"I did not!" Mikey squawks in indignation, bolting up from the bed. "I only played with her cool clicker thingy."

I grimace at this and Don rubs his temples resignedly as he asks, "Precisely _what _was this 'clicker thingy'? Something easily repaired, I hope?"

"I dunno," Mikey responds, shrugging helplessly as he plunks down on his bed again.

"Raph?" I question my other brother, raising my eye ridges expectantly.

"No idea," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest out of habit.

"Well guys, let's check this thing out," I suggest after a few seconds, returning the focus to the object of curiosity currently in Mikey's possession.

We gather around him on his bed, although not before heaving the mess of dog-eared comic books, art supplies and half-finished food off the comforter.

Once settled, the four of us simply stare at the thing as if anticipating an explosion or a flash of mysterious light. Call me paranoid, but it wouldn't be the first time.

It appears ordinary enough: a dark blue cover, spiral binding and three holes punched down the side in a vertical line. However, as we have come to learn, looks can be deceiving.

"Should I open it?" Mikey whispers, observing the scribbler intently.

"No other way ta read it, is there?" Raph remarks sardonically and I only have the mind to direct a disparaging look at him. Honestly, can't he turn it off for a few minutes?

Building the already stifling tension, Mikey slowly reaches for the bottom corner of the notebook, peeling it back as he hums what I recognize as the theme from "Harry Potter" quietly. After about ten seconds, his progress has only revealed one third of the first page, and we've all grown tired of Mikey's antics.

Without any warning, Don snatches the notebook from Mikey's hands and grumbles, "For the love of – _I'll_ open it!"

"Hey!" Mikey objects, but the book is already open. Don begins reciting aloud:

"_At the sound the woman whirled around, eyes wide in astonishment. This look of surprise swiftly changed to one of fury, and she lunged at Tintin, missing him only because he had enough sense to dive out of the way. She hit the door with enough force to slam it shut, grunting on impact. Tintin's landing was less than graceful and he found himself sprawled out on the floor on his rump. Propped up by his left arm, Tintin raised a hand in defence."_

"Tintin? Who the hell is that?" Raph voices his confusion, which matches my own. Don frowns to himself, momentarily lost in thought.

"Maybe it's one of those OC people," Mikey pipes up. We all cast him a confused look and he elaborates, "You know, like an original character? Authors put them in the fandom and make them interact with the canon characters."

"You _read _that trash?" Raph demands disgustedly.

"Hey, I thought I'd check out some of this fan fiction stuff, just to see what it was about," he defends. Then his beak crinkling, he adds, "Although there are some things I wish I could unread."

I'm about to explore this subject further but Don resumes narrating, his face furrowed in thought.

_ "'I'm not—' he began, but the woman had already grabbed a belt that was hanging on the back of the door and wound one end around her left hand, her right dangling the buckle dangerously. Feeling around him, Tintin grasped something hard and wooden: the shaft of an umbrella. He scrambled to his feet, using the umbrella to lift himself off the floor and held out his weapon horizontally._

_ "The woman spared no time charging him, and it was all Tintin could do to stop the buckle from colliding with his throat. The umbrella took the brunt of the next two blows and as she wound up for another, Tintin ducked to the side, somersaulting into a crouch. She pivoted to face him and enclosed the belt buckle in her fist, the corner sticking out between her index and middle finger. It was an effective substitute for brass knuckles."_

"The girl sounds kinda badass," Raph remarks and we all give him an incredulous look. "What? S'not like no one else was thinkin' it."

Don continues.

_ "'Hold it!' Tintin appealed as he stood, but she darted forward, aiming for his face. He raised his umbrella in time to intercept the punch, skewing her aim. Tintin stepped back and fumbled with the mechanism of the umbrella, popping it open as she threw another punch. Her fist made a fleeting impression in the bright red fabric of the canopy._

_ Before she could strike again, Tintin tossed aside the umbrella and rushed forward, leading with his shoulder. When his shoulder connected with the soft flesh of the woman's abdomen she stumbled back and collided with the far wall, releasing a puff of air. Tintin paused for a moment, worried he had actually hurt her. His concern evaporated when the woman pushed off of the wall, shifting into an offensive position. This time, Tintin was ready for her attack as she–"_

"Hey! I know who that guy is!" Mikey suddenly cries, interrupting Don for the third time. He looks at Don and asks, "You remember those comic books about the reporter and the white dog? Where they solve the mysteries?"

Don's eyes brighten with understanding and he says, "That's right! We had one of those when we were kids. What was it…'The Crab with the Golden Claws'!"

While Don and Mikey appear to have experienced an epiphany, Raph and I remain in the dark, sharing a perplexed look.

"What're you two boneheads talkin' about?" Raph snarls, annoyed that he is out of the loop.

"Tintin is a character from a series of French comics written by a Belgian author under the name of Hergé," Don informs us.

While I'm a bit better off for the enlightenment, Raphael is not as pleased. Clenching his fists, he seethes, "So you're tellin' me that we wasted all that time on the wrong notebook?! Everythin's gone ta shell!"

Although I wouldn't lose my control like that, I too am disappointed that we didn't find what we were looking for. I glance over at Don to gage his reaction and am surprised to see him avidly reading the acquired notebook. He notices my gaze he lowers the book to his lap, contradicting Raph and I.

"I disagree. We may not have found what we were looking for, but it wasn't a waste of time. Jade's writing is actually good."

I realize that Mikey has been quiet for over a minute and I turn to him. I'm mildly alarmed at the hurt expression that overtakes his features. Concerned, I ask, "What's wrong, Mikey? It's not like we lost anything valuable. It's probably best that we don't read her fan fiction, anyway."

"You guys don't get it," Mike shakes his head, his voice hallow and grave. He sighs and demands exasperatedly, "Don't you realize what this means?"

Silence.

Uncharacteristically, Mikey heaves an exasperated sigh and wails, "Jade's cheating on us with another fandom!"

I recoil from this statement not because it's hurtful – to the contrary, it's a relief to not be the sole focus of Jade's fan girl tendencies – but because Mikey has expressed himself in awkward terms. I _swear _he does it on purpose.

I feel dishonourable, knowing that we're being punished for trying to steal and read Jade's private notebook. It's time to take the lead and return this property to its rightful owner.

"Alright, now we have to get this back to Jade's room unseen–"

I halt when the bedroom door bangs open and my hand flies to the handle of my katana, my feet hitting the floor.

Standing in the doorframe is Jade, her hands poised on her hips and her posture aggressive.

"I believe you boys have something that belongs to me," she grinds out, her eyes sharp.

"Uh oh," Mikey says, wincing at her harsh glare. Always quick to lay blame, he stabs his finger at Don and tattles, "He read your book!"

Don splutters in indignation, unable to form a sentence. Jade merely smirks and steps up to him, plucking the notebook from his fingers. She laughs at his startled expression and gloats, "You'll never find my stuff about you. After my last run in with Raph and Mikey, I relocated my notebooks to a safe place. And rest assured, I will be changing my penname so you won't be able to find it on the internet."

"The internet!" Don exclaims, slapping a hand to his face. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Wait," I interrupt, rounding on Don. "You mean to tell me that you could have easily looked her up on the internet?"

"What the hell did we do all this sneaking around for?!" Raph growls.

"I…um…I forgot?" Don replies bashfully, his smile edgy.

Jade laughs nervously, sensing that tensions are high. She backs slowly from the room, saying, "Well, I can see you four have some debriefing to do. I'll just…go."

Like a flash, she disappears, most likely to make some changes to her profile.

"Okay, so that was a bust," Mikey admits, his attitude vastly improved as he adds, "But that doesn't mean we're down for the count! We just need a new approach."

After a few seconds of thought, he snaps his fingers in an "Aha!" moment. Grabbing Don by the shoulders, Mikey begins, "Donnie, this time you'll take Jade _outside_ the lair. And bro, just take one for the team and kiss her, alright? While you do that–"

Mike is cut off by Raphael shoving him face first onto the bed, sitting on his head to keep him pinned. His perch is less than solid, for Mikey keeps wiggling around under his shell, but Raph maintains the hold. I'm not really worried until the muffled protests subside, because when Mikey stops talking it means that he's seriously hurt.

I sigh labouredly and chide, "Raph, get off Mikey's head. He'll suffocate!"

Raph raises his eye ridges and asks, "Would that be a bad thing."

"Raph."

"…fine."

Mikey pops up from the mattress gasping for breath, clutching his chest. "Shell, dude! What was that for?"

"For bein' an idiot," Raph counters irritably, cuffing him. I sigh again.

And to think: I planned to meditate this afternoon.

* * *

_Poor Leo can never get any peace!  
So the boys teamed up against the evil fan girl and won! Well…sort of…okay, not really.  
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next will be from my perspective and I will be interviewing, drumroll please…CASEY and APRIL (but mainly APRIL)! So, send in any more interview questions you might have for those two.  
Thank you all for reading!_


	11. Too Many Questions

_Disclaimer: I do not own any turtles. Their adorable green shells belong to Nickelodeon and Viacom.  
Hooray for late updates! This will be told from my perspective, and it is the chapter where I interview Casey and April! HUZZAH!  
Raph: Finally, she's botherin' someone else for a change!  
Don: What do you mean?! She's been bugging me for YEARS!  
Me: Oh Donnie, you're so cute when you play hard to get! *glomps*  
Don: SEE?! I TOLD YOU! _D:

* * *

My POV:

Beads of sweat trickle down my back and my chest is tight as I stretch my arms high over my head, panting hard. So much for "light" choreography. I'm sweating buckets, my body is protesting every stretch I try and it hurts to breathe. It was a far cry from light!

Most of the students are gone, leaving me with only a few upper years, Alex and our instructor in the large dance studio. I chance to lift my eyes to the mirror and catch a glimpse of my reflection, grimacing at the sight. My hair is a frizzy mess around my head, the ponytail that once sat at the top of my head hanging low at the nape of my neck, and my face resembles a shiny red beet.

Note to self: do more cardio. A _lot_ more.

I finally sit down on the floor to do some leg stretches and spread my legs as wide as they will go, promptly flopping forward. Oh, that feels so niiiiiiice. Forget the stretching; maybe I can just lay on the smelly dance floor forever. I know my muscles like that idea.

A pair of feet stops inches from my nose and a familiar voice asks, "Tired?"

"Yes," I confirm in a fatigued groan, pushing myself off the floor to look up at my interrogator: Alex, the Greek God who shows no fatigue. Alex, who I have never seen sweat. Alex, who is offering a hand to lift me from my exhausted heap on the floor.

I gratefully clasp the proffered hand and let him pull me to my feet, humming in appreciation when the pressure in my knees dissolves with a satisfying crack. I've been waiting for that to happen for the past two hours!

"Thanks," I gasp.

He smiles and shrugs, replying, "No problem".

I roll my shoulders, relishing the pop that reverberates through my entire body. High impact activity hurts like crazy, but I'll admit it's a good feeling. Still, I could do without all the splits; I'm worried I'm going to pull my groin or something. How awkward would _that _be to explain to the boys back at the lair?

"How are you holding up, Canada?" Alex teases and although I narrow my eyes on him, a smile plays about my mouth.

"Just great," I quip, then gesture to the far side of the room and add, "But I think I might have lost a lung over there."

"Quit exaggerating!" he chides through a chuckle as he poises his hands on his hips. Cocking an eyebrow, Alex demands, "You didn't think this was going to be easy, did you?"

"No," I answer. And it's true; I never expected that. In fact, I had the mentality going in that this would be the most difficult undertaking in my life so far. Yet I can't deny that the rigorous rehearsals for the musical caught me a bit off guard. We just started two weeks ago, and already we're deep into production mode. Most shows that I've done in the past didn't pick up until at least the four week mark, but the director started driving us the very first day. Doesn't she have better things to do, like devour live puppies or something? That woman is _scary_. I do _not_ want to get on her bad side.

"I guess I'm just a bit overwhelmed," I explain, pulling a hooded sweater over my head. Alex smiles and his expression conveys that he understands.

"Listen, if it's any consolation, I think you're phenomenal," he compliments, the full brunt of his dark eyes making my face heat up. Darn his eyes!

I return the smile and manage to eliminate any shakiness from my voice as I reply, "Thanks. That means a lot coming from someone as talented as you."

When his bright grin flashes over his face, I swear I am momentarily blinded by its beauty. Urgh, why do I feel like this around him? I mean, not three weeks ago I was mooning over a mutated turtle who I've had a fangirl crush on for years! Soon I'll be going for any boy who makes eye contact with me. The hormones have to stop!

My mental rant is interrupted as Alex's suddenly too loud voice cuts in, "So, I was wondering if you'd like to go off campus for lunch with me tomorrow?"

That's weird; we usually have lunch with a group from our Voice Master class in the cafeteria. Why he all of a sudden wants to go off campus with me, I've no idea–

Oh. Wait, he…he just kind of asked me out, didn't he? And here I am, standing mutely, my eyes no doubt enormous. Nicely done, brain. Way to pick up on that.

"I…" my voice bounces off the walls and I realize with a start that we are alone. No wonder every sound is magnified. My cheeks flare up again – darker this time – and I simper nervously, stammering, "S-sure, uh…where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere you'd like," he responds suavely, clearly enjoying that he's made me flustered. Nothing like a blushing, grinning, stuttering girl to give you an ego boost, right? Before I can say any more, he brushes my arm with his fingers and despite the sheen of sweat on my forehead he presses his mouth to it, my eyes closing automatically.

"See you tomorrow," he bids me goodbye. I only open my eyes when his footsteps have faded to a dull slap far down the corridor.

Alone in the dance studio, two questions fight for dominance in my head. One: what just happened? And two: why did I _let_ it happen?

I chance to glance at the clock on the wall and my stomach lurches when I see the short hand is on the four. Shoot, Raph's picking me up today and I'm late! He said that if I was late one more time, he'd make me run alongside the van! From most, I would take it as an empty threat; however, this is the turtle that followed through on his promise to make Mikey scrub his bedroom floor with a toothbrush if he set foot in Raph's room again.

Raphael means business.

Once outside, Raph has mercy on me, not forcing me to chase the Battle Shell home. Of course, this is after a generous offering of chocolate and a vow to do his sweeping for the next month, so my victory is hallow. He drives me home in relative silence, which is alright with me. I'm still reeling from Alex's proposition.

Did I really just agree to go out with him? I'm not even positive I like him yet, although my eyes seem to find him rather appealing. The more I think about it, the more my brain tries to reason it out. He's been nothing but nice to me since school started and we've been working together on the show. We have similar interests and our sense of humour is the same. I won't deny he's very handsome and the other girls in my year seem to think he's good-looking. It all makes sense. But…

But then there's Don, who is slowly but surely growing to be a friend. A once fictional character who, let's not forget, is the object of my fangirlisms. I mean, I love all the guys but Donnie is special in my fangirl heart.

Then again, the facts must be faced: Donatello has no interest in me as anything but a friend. Period. I should respect his wishes and move on. Alex is the obvious choice, as I like spending time with him and he has expressed an interest in me. I should go for it, it's a good option.

I lean my head back on the seat, closing my eyes for a moment as I weigh my options.

I have nothing to lose, right?

* * *

"You've been really quiet," Raphael observes as we descend in the elevator. Whoa, déjà vu! Wasn't that what he said to me before my interview with Don, following a conversation with Alex? It's scary how Raph seems to intuitively know something is wrong when I wasn't even aware he was paying attention.

"I'm exhausted," I reply, putting a little extra whine into my tone. That'll teach him to break into my thought process. "I think I sweat out all of my bodily fluids."

"Wuss," Raph mutters under his breath and I suppress a grin. Good old Raph; you can always count on him for a half-hearted insult.

When the elevator door slides open and I step out with Raph by my shoulder, I am met with an unexpected sight. Casey and April are side by side on the couch, Mikey leaning over the back between them and Leo standing in front while conversing calmly with the pair.

Oh, shoot! I totally forgot about the interview I requested with them!

"Here she is!" Mikey crows at our entrance, waving wildly in my direction. All I can do is smile and nervously return the gesture, acutely aware to the two strangers staring at me. Two strangers who, I might add, were cartoon characters to me less than ten seconds ago. Now, I am faced with two very real humans like myself. Except, you know, they're supporting characters in a well-known cartoon and I'm not.

"Hi, Jade. How was your day?" Leo greets kindly, his gentle voice a stark contrast to Mikey's frantic welcome. I almost find myself laughing, realizing that barely a month ago Leo would have gladly sliced me into sushi if I so much as looked at him wrong. Now, he couldn't be any friendlier. Oh how the tides have turned, Leo!

"It was good," I reply, readjusting the bag on my shoulder. "Busy, as always, but would I really want it any other way?" Actually, yes. I could do without all the panic and stress.

I shift my attention to the human couple on the couch that is eying me with a note of distrust. Putting on my almost perfected (and soon to be patented) "I'm-not-a-crazy-fangirl" smile, I greet, "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you two. You're Casey and April, right?" _No duh_, my brain adds sardonically. Quiet, you.

"Yes," April finally speaks, "Nice to meet you…Jade." Her voice is warm, although her eyes maintain their protective glint. Clearly she is willing to go to any measures to protect her boys from the rabid fangirls, and I am currently Public Enemy No.1.

Oh, goodie.

"'Sup?" Casey greets with admirable casualty, breaking the staring contest between April and I. Despite my dislike for his character on the show – he's far too dramatic and brutish for me – I find myself smiling at his welcome. Maybe Casey's one of those guys you have to speak to personally to get a sense of what they're like? Another possibility is that he's just as intolerable as he seems on the show and I'm overestimating his social skills. After all, he's only said one syllable so far, and the afternoon is still young.

"So," I wince when my voice sounds overly eager, "have the guys explained the situation?" There's really no sense in dancing around the subject. I have a major assignment due in two days and I'm still in the writing stages.

"Donnie gave us the details," April responds and I reflexively find myself looking for the turtle in question. When I'm met with no sign of purple I frown, wondering where Don could be. In my time here, he hasn't been absent from the lair aside from patrols, which take place when I'm either asleep or in another one of my adrenaline induced study sessions.

"Where _is _Don?" I ask. Not that I'm keeping tabs on him or anything. Just…wondering. I am concerned for the wellbeing of my favourite characters. It's not that I favour Don; no, that's ridiculous!

…Yeah, I'm not convinced either.

"He went to see LH," Mikey supplies offhandedly and I "Ah" in understanding, my mild disappointment at Don's absence replaced with my interest in Leatherhead's existence. I had almost forgotten about him. I wonder if I could manage to squeeze and interview out of him? It can't be much harder than what I endured to get Leo and Raph to voluntarily spend time alone with me. A little blackmail, perhaps some bribery…I'm pretty much willing to do anything to get my interviews. Shameless, I know, but I need to ensure I am doing my favourite characters justice!

…and maybe, just MAYBE, I enjoy basking in the awesomeness. So sue me.

Mikey, ignorant to my shift in thought, shrugs and continues, "It's a reptilian genius thing. Sounds boring, if you ask me."

Nobody _was_ asking you, Mikey darling. Changing the subject, I excuse myself by saying, "I just came from a full day of classes and a two hour dance rehearsal. Could I have a few minutes to collect my things before we dive into this?"

"Sure, take your time," Casey answers distractedly, rising from the couch to exchange some manly knowledge with his favourite turtle of the bunch, Raphael.

I slip away to the guest room and deposit my schoolbags on the floor next to my bed (laziness is a virtue). Dropping to one knee, I flip up the edge of the comforter and prop up the heavy mattress with one hand, delving the other into the depths underneath the mattress. My hand closes on a familiar metal binding and I extract my interview notebook from its hiding place under the bed. It's not my most original idea, but the boys haven't dared to set foot in here since the last time.

Somehow, Splinter found out about all the madness surrounding the abduction of my personal notebook, although my best guess is that he heard Mikey begging his brothers rather loudly to help him with his second attempt to snatch my notebook. I mean, if I could hear it from my room with music playing and the door closed, a ninja Master like Splinter could most definitely pick up on it. Let's be honest here.

Needless to say, they were all punished. Not only were the turtles sentenced to forty backflips, they were also forced to apologize to me following a long lecture about privacy. When the boys emerged from their Sensei's quarters, Don and Leo looked mortified, Mikey was pouting quite profusely and Raph was fuming. Serves them right!

I find my tape recorder in record time today…only to realize the batteries are dead. Of course they are. Stupid batteries, always stupidly dying at the stupid moment I need them!

…did I mention this is stupid? I did? Good, because it is.

I growl and spit, "Fine," slamming the device on my makeshift desk.

Alright, mental checklist: Notebook, check. Pens, check. Tape recorder, broken beyond repair after my small fit of anger and out of commission indefinitely. Smoke pellet stolen from Raph for a quick escape, check. I'm good to go!

I enter the main area with my supplies clutched to my chest, humming the tune of the dance number we were running earlier. Casey, Raph and Mikey are conversing animatedly about something boy-ish, if the wild gestures and sound effects are anything to go by, while Leo and April are chatting calmly. Upon my return I smile and suggest brightly, "Well, we might as well get this interview started." Translation: clear out, boys.

Unfortunately, they have another idea. And by _they_, I mean Leo. The turtle in blue says, "Actually, Casey and April want us to stay, just in case any…problems come up. Is that alright with you?"

I recognize the cool but firm delivery enough to know this is not a request, but a command. Smiling reflexively, I reply with saccharine sweetness, "Yeah, that's fine." It's not like I have a choice, anyway. Leo is the boss. Boss Man. Fearless Leader. Captain Ninja!

…Why does every nickname I attempt to give him sound stupid? It's easy for the other boys. Mikey: Orange Thunder, or Mikey Darling. Raphael: Grumpy McGrouchy Pants or, in his stupider moments, Raph Dear (never aloud, of course). Donatello: Dr. Love, Donnie Baby or Gorgeous (again, not aloud). But when it comes to Leo, I got nothin'!

I settle comfortably into the brown chair – the seat that has unofficially become my "interview chair" – and ignore Raphael's glare. Opening to a fresh page, I split the page into two columns with a stroke of my pen, writing the name of my interviewees over one column or the other. I'm positive that Casey and April's answers will be very different. Like, Leo and Raph different.

When I glance up, I find them all staring at me expectantly, April and Casey seated close together on the couch while the three turtles stand in a line behind the couch, observing. My throat goes suddenly dry and I swallow uncomfortably to regain some moisture, feeling my face heat up under the intense looks.

It wouldn't be so bad, were it not for the three spectators. Geez, don't the boys have something better to do? They're going to ruin everything! If the past six weeks in the lair are anything to go by, it will be impossible for Mikey and Raph to keep their comments to themselves; Leo I have a bit more faith in.

Calm yourself. It's just a friendly interview with a nice couple…and three ninja observers.

"Okay, first question," I begin in an overly energetic manner. Toning down the perkiness a touch at Raph's dubious look, I continue, "What were your thoughts the first time you met the boys?"

Surely this question won't get me killed by ninjas?

April is the first to speak, answering, "I was terrified! I had never seen anything like them in my entire life. Not only were they talking turtles, but they also saved me from Stockman's mousers!" Bashful, she laughs at the memory and admits, "Even after I woke up, I was in denial for a while, refusing to accept that I was not imagining things; there were actually talking turtles and a giant rat trying to help me."

The lines around April's eyes soften as she adds, "I made excellent friends that day and what began as the most frightening experience of my life morphed into the best moment of my life."

"Awwwwww, April!" Mikey coos, hugging the redhead from behind. Nuzzling the side of her head affectionately, he says, "We love you, too!"

"Shucks, Ape, yer makin' me blush!" Raphael quips and Leo rolls his eyes, nudging his red banded brother with a well-placed elbow. I suppress a squeal at the absolute cuteness of the moment, preserving the picturesque moment in my memory for future reference.

Returning to the subject, I ask, "What about you, Casey?"

I turn to the man and wait for his response. Thinking for a moment before he replies, Casey explains, "I gotta say, when I first saw Raph I was confused. I was like, "What the hell is this guy doin'? He's insane!" Casey jerks a thumb over his shoulder toward Raph, who looks affronted.

"Yer the one who's insane, ya basketcase," Raph retorts good-naturedly.

"Oh yeah? And who was the lunatic who tried ta take out my bike?" Casey counters, smirking over his shoulder at his closest turtle friend.

"Tried? Please! I _totalled_ that bag of bolts, nimrod!"

"Bird beak!"

"Grease monkey!"

"Dickwad!"

"Mother–"

"Ahem," I clear my throat pointedly and the insults grind to an impromptu halt. Casting Raph a withering look, I request, "Could you please refrain from interrupting my interview?" Turning my eyes to the other two turtles, I add, "You each had your turn to conduct an interview in private. Respect Casey and April's interview time."

I almost laugh at the comically abashed faces of the three boys. I had no idea I could make them look so embarrassed! April also seems surprised, for she regards me bemusedly. Having the courtesy to look sheepish, Raphael mutters, "Sorry," and scuffs a foot at the brick floor.

"Thank you," I reply politely, returning my attention to my two interview subjects. "Please continue, Mr. Jones."

"It's Casey," the man specifies, although there isn't any harshness in his tone. I smile as he continues, "So's I was all confused and kind of pissed off but once I started listenin' ta what Raph was sayin', I realized that he was a cool guy. When the other three showed up, I was already used ta Raph so I wasn't freaked out by them.

"These guys are my buds; they're like my younger bros and I'm lucky that I get ta protect New York with them."

Who knew Casey could be so articulate? Well spoken, Mr. Jones! I quickly jot down his words, suddenly feeling a deep pang of regret that I didn't get a recording of that beautiful statement. My poor recorder hardly stood a chance, and now I'll be lucky to get the darn thing back together, let alone functioning. How can I be a professional interviewer with no tape recorder?…Okay, I'm not a professional, but it's important to have a sense of presentation even under fraudulent terms!

I smile as I finish writing down Casey's response, returning to my question list. The next question I aim at April, in the spirit of "ladies first". Concealing a smirk, I address the redhead jovially, "A fan submitted a question for you, April. Zrexheartz is wondering how you remain sane spending so much time with the guys? Do you have methods of some kind?"

I ignore the grumbles and squawks of the three brothers in question, pleased when April laughs delightedly. Hush, boys; you have _no idea _how irritating teenagers can be. Especially _male _teenagers.

Her tone bright, April explains, "We get along very well, although while I was living in the lair for a brief time, I did have some moments of frustration. I luckily picked up on a few tactics to keep my cool. I found that having personal space and pre-set boundaries was helpful, especially after the first few times the boys let themselves into my apartment."

The reaction to her sentence is immediate. Leo resorts to looking down at his toes and flushes slightly; Raphael huffs and crosses his arms over his plastron, his eyes flitting around the room uncomfortably; and Mikey whines, "We said we were sorry, like, _fifty bazillion times_, April! How were we supposed to know you were coming out of the shower?"

I release a laugh at this, swiftly turning it into a cough when five pairs of eyes flick to me. Right, not funny. Sorry.

My amusement hidden behind a suddenly serious expression, I urge April to continue. She explains, "I have my own activities aside from work, like recreational soccer, sketching, and journal writing. I also think that doing girly things is helpful; like spa days or chatting with a girlfriend over the phone."

I re-cross my legs and pivot on my rear to face April fully, asking directly, "What about the danger they put themselves in? How do you cope with that?"

April's smile is tight and humourless, her voice clipped as she admits, "I have yet to find a proper method to curb the worry any time the guys head out on patrol or a mission. I try to remind myself that they're adults who can fend for themselves better than I ever could, but I can't help worrying. I make sure one of them calls me every night to be certain they make it home, no matter the hour. It helps ease my mind a little."

I nod at this, writing down her main points. When I look up again, I can see the severity on each face. Aw man, why'd I have to be such a downer? Let's do a pick me up question, before Mikey's baby blues spill over. Seriously, the amount of moisture in those puppies could keep a marigold alive for weeks!

"Thank you, April," I say politely, scanning the short list of questions.

In mere seconds, I find one meant for Casey and I look up at the man as I ask, "What do you do for a living, Casey? From what I've seen on the show, all you do is wander the streets in a hockey mask at all hours of the night, invade people's homes at ungodly hours and break things in April's store."

"That's…accurate," April remarks and the three boys snicker behind Casey. The man whirls around, settling an unimpressed look on his friends before turning back to me with a slightly icy look.

Uh oh. How do I always manage to offend people? I've got to work on my tact.

"That's not all I do!" Casey protests. His face contorts and I fear that he's going to chew me out for my unflattering description. After about eight seconds, I realize that Casey is vainly trying to come up with an example to disprove my assessment of him. I decide to wait….and wait…and wait a few more seconds….

Oh, come on! At this rate, we won't be done until Monday! And today is _Wednesday_. Life's too short for Casey Jones to take his sweet time answering my question.

"Thank you, Casey. You make a valid point," I say with only mild sarcasm, returning to my list of questions. I hear a snort of laughter from Mikey and Raph teases, "She got you good, man!"

"Shut up," Casey mutters and I catch April rubbing his arm soothingly out of the corner of my eye. What a perfect lead in to my next question! It's the big one, the whopper; the question that will blow all other questions out of the water!

My smile warm and kind, I push on, "Here's another fan question, courtesy of bell-13-tmnt-lover: When did you two know that you had found your match? Was it love at first sight, or more of an unforeseen circumstance?"

Casey's eyes flick to April and they soften, swimming with pure devotion. Wow. I'd count myself lucky to have someone look at me like that. His timbre tender, he replies, "I think it was love at first sight for me. The moment I saw April, I knew I wanted ta be close ta her. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and she was so smart and nice, I – I couldn't help fallin' for her. 'Course, I've never been good with talkin' or feelin's, so I just argued with her for the first few months. I had no idea what else ta do with her."

Casey winks at April and a smirk curves her lips. Pleased with his girlfriend's reaction, he continues, "I was glad when she finally admitted she liked me too. She's the best girlfriend I've ever had…and I've had a lot of girlfriends!"

I don't know if that was meant to flatter April or brag about his many women, but it was rather sweet. Points for trying, Casey!

April seems quite taken with this description, for she leans over and kisses Casey briefly on the mouth, smiling all the while. This receives a rousing chorus of disgusted sounds from the boys, followed by, "Get a room!" from Raphael. Although it's nothing explicit – merely a peck, if we're being honest – I glance away. While kissing is alright, I don't necessarily want to watch.

"What about you, April?" I ask, trying to bring the focus back for what feels like the tenth time.

April reflects momentarily before admitting, "It wasn't really love at first sight for me. Yes, I acknowledged that Casey was attractive, but I found myself constantly fighting him. Our behaviour was toxic, I knew, yet there seemed to be no explanation for our constant bickering. I didn't understand why he made me so mad. Eventually I figured out that I was merely supressing my feelings for him, although it still wasn't love then."

April pauses, her eyes distant as she says through an absentminded smile, "I think the moment I knew he was the one for me was on our fourth real date, when he took me to a gallery showing in Midtown that I had been dying to see. It was a digital art and film media showing that spotlighted the Amazon Rainforest, which I found fascinating.

"Of course," she tilts her head toward her boyfriend, her lips quirked in a smile, "Casey here fell asleep during the showing. I was just watching some gorgeous shots of a macaw and all of a sudden, Casey's head fell on my shoulder! I should have been furious that he couldn't even stay awake but I couldn't help smiling; he was adorable. He went to all that trouble to take me to an event he wasn't even interested in because it was something that _I_ wanted to do. It was really sweet." April chuckles as she recounts, "I woke him up and suggested we go somewhere else, so we slipped out of the film early and headed to Chinatown. We spent the rest of our date night wandering the streets and people watching."

"Damn, April, make me sound a little lamer, why don't ya?" Casey mumbles irritably, rubbing his face to hide the embarrassment. April merely smiles, clearly used to his attitude.

"It was the best date I've ever had, and the night I realized that I loved you," she replies, patching up his battered ego. Casey smiles in turn and leans forward for another kiss, freezing when Mikey, Raph and Leo erupt into another loud round of griping.

"Eeeeeeeew, dude! Not when we're all here!" Mikey complains, squeezing his eyes shut while Leo averts his gaze, prudish as always.

"Hey, she's my girlfriend! What d'ya expect me ta do?" Casey defends, settling back on the couch with an incensed huff.

"At least warn us, a'right?" Raph pleads.

How silly can they get? Without really meaning to, I mutter aloud with a note of exasperation, "_Boys_."

They all perk up at that and Raph flares, demanding, "What's that supposed ta mean?"

For a second I consider letting it go and trying to appease the three boys; however, my annoyance wins out over any thoughts of peace.

"Guys, you're older than I am and you can't handle a little kissing! I'd understand if they were making out on the couch, but they're just sharing a harmless peck on the lips! I'm sure you've seen more intimate things, anyway."

"Oh, we have," Raph delivers in an undertone. This sets Mikey off into hysterical giggles, the turtle shoving a fist into his mouth to muffle the laughter. I instantly know that Raph is referring to my kiss with Don three weeks ago and it's all I can do to not lunge at his throat. My face heats up incriminatingly and I swivel my glare on Raphael, daring him to continue. His irritating smirk remains, the turtle unfazed despite my attempts to burn him alive with my eyes. He even has the nerve to _wink _at me. The choked sound of a suppressed chuckle draws my eyes to Leonardo, who is trying to hide his amusement behind a hand.

It appears that I will receive no help from Leo. I suppose that, as the professional here, it's my job to ignore them and move on. Looking at my list of questions, I speak up stiffly, "So, April, how do you feel about the boys?"

"I love them like little brothers," April replies without missing a beat.

Ah, yes; just as I suspected. Call me a sceptic, but as an avid watcher of TMNT, I've noticed some of April's _questionable_ interactions with the boys. Although she claims she views them as siblings, some of her behaviour hints at a different kind of relationship – especially with Donnie. Don't deny it, you noticed it too! How could you not notice, what with all of the 'shipping that involves the two of them? I respect people who like the pairing, but I personally think April is too old for them.

Oblivious to my thoughts, April continues, "We all take care of each other, and they're the best brothers I could ever ask for."

"Yes, well…" I trail off meaningfully, writing down her words. When April gives me a searching look, I venture with my usual amount of tact (which is none), "I understand that you think of them as brothers and that you're like a caretaker to them, but I'm wondering if that was always the case?"

Blank stares.

"What I mean is…did you at any point have…"feelings" for one of them?"

I receive two different types of reactions, one vocal and the other mute. The former is from April, who stammers irately in the face of my thinly veiled accusation. In contrast, Casey, Leo, Raph and Mikey are silent, gawking at me like I have just told them everything they ever knew was a lie…which, if you think about it, I have.

When she finally regains use of her tongue, April objects heatedly, "That's ridiculous! I never had any designs on them!"

Attempting a weak save, I retract hastily, "Sorry, I didn't mean any offense. It's just that…a few clips on the show made me wonder."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Casey asks, suddenly curious. Glancing up at the three turtles positioned behind the couch, I confirm that their expressions have shifted from aghast to thoughtful, the teens visibly analyzing their recent encounters with April to see if they missed some sexual innuendo.

Well, I've already started digging a grave for myself. And I'm no quitter.

"For starters, there's the first episode featuring April. Don was _always_ carrying her around," I start, naming the points off, "And on that day when the Shredder and the Foot Elite attacked Leo when he was on his solo training run, Don pulled April's chair out for her. Then when you defeated Nano the second time, April kissed Don when she was on a date with Casey–"

"I wondered about that!" Casey interrupts, frowning at April.

Ignoring Casey's outburst, I conclude, "And then when the Triceratons were rounding April up and Don knocked them all out, she said she was so happy to see him, she could kiss him."

"She WHAT?!" Casey and Raph demand in unison, while Leo merely looks gobsmacked.

I'm surprised – and mildly worried – upon seeing Mikey's face. The young turtle has his features twisted in thought, visibly working through something in that labyrinthine brain. With slow deliberateness, Mikey remarks, "You know, it kinda sounds like April has a thing for Donnie."

At Mikey's observation, April's face reddens in mortification and it's all I can do to keep from looking smug. Her tone panicked, she insists with a tad too much force, "Absolutely not! We're just close friends, nothing more!"

"What about the kiss?" Casey "One track mind" Jones presses.

"It was totally platonic!" April protests shrilly. You call it platonic, I call it pedophilic.

Although I am envious of April's relationship with Don, I decide to rescue her from the mess I've created. Partially because I feel sorry for her, but mainly because I sense impending doom for Donatello at the hands of Casey Jones if I don't put out this fire.

"Guys, I'm sure it was nothing," I cut in. "I'm probably just reading too much into it. You know how TV loves to play up relationships."

"If ya think it's nothin', than why'd ya bring it up?" Raphael challenges, his amber eyes taunting. I open my mouth to respond, then promptly snap it shut upon realizing I have no reasonable answer for that. Raph smirks and folds his arms over his plastron, fixing me with an amused look.

"Ya know what I think?" he drawls, his voice overdramatic. When I merely raise my eyebrows in indication for him to share – he'll tell me whether or not I take the bait – Raph continues suggestively, "I think that yer jealous 'cause yer worried that April's all over yer Donnie."

Hey, I thought _Leo_ was supposed to be the mind reader!

I force my face into an impassive expression, trying to block out the angry pulse that thuds hard in my temple and the flush that is rising gradually up my neck. I don't trust myself to say anything so I content myself with boring holes into Raph's forehead with my eyes.

Our silent exchange is taken in by the other four in the room, two of whom have absolutely no idea what is going on. Casey, ever oblivious, butts in, "What d'ya mean, _her_ Donnie–?"

Just as swiftly as he started, Casey stops and I tear my gaze from Raph's face in time to see Casey's eyes flicker in understanding. Then, a hyena-like cackle of laughter explodes from his mouth, the usually gruff man throwing his head back in mirth. His gloved hands clutch at his abdomen as he sinks low in his seat, his body shaking with the sheer force of his guffaws.

Taking Casey's example, Mikey lets himself go, leaning on the couch for support as he howls and hoots. Even Leo cracks a grin, clearly enjoying my embarrassment. The ringleader of the whole debacle, Raphael, just smirks smugly at me, his eyes filled with unvoiced taunts.

April has caught on, for she gives me an odd look that means one of two things: Either she's excited that Don has a potential love interest; or, she's about to tear me limb from limb for sexually harassing one of her boys. There is interest evident in her expression as April asks, "So, are you and Don…?"

This I can answer. My voice tight, I reply, "No, we're not. There was an incident, but Don made it very clear that he isn't interested in me. I accept and respect that; however, Raphael has resorted to immature teasing."

Raph rolls his eyes at me and joshers, "Sheesh, can't ya take a joke, Jade? We're just having a little fun!"

Excuse me for not busting a gut.

Realizing that the laughter is only escalating, I begin to gather my interview materials, intent on a hasty retreat. This interview is a lost cause if I've ever seen one. Once my belongings are cradled in my arms I look up at April, who is visibly desperate to know what exactly happened with Don and I, and Casey, who is _still _laughing. Smiling agreeably, I thank them for their time. With the usual pleasantries, I excuse myself from the room and turn to leave when the worst possible individual enters the lair.

Yep, you guessed it: Don.

Oh, shoot.

"Hey, guys! I was talking to LH, and he said–"

Don halts when he sees Casey and Mikey just recovering from their laugh attack, Raph and Leo smirking at him and April eying him gleefully. His eyes cloud with bemusement and Don asks, "What's going on?"

Raph throws a thumb carelessly over his shoulder and quips, "We were just tellin' April and Casey about your girlfriend."

This sets Casey off again, which makes Mikey's sniggers renew just as loudly as before. To wipe the utterly bewildered look from Don's face, I correct Raph, "Firstly, I am not Don's girlfriend. Secondly, you can't tease the two of us about that one kiss for the rest of my stay here! It's getting old fast!"

"Kiss?!" April squeaks, whirling on Don with impossibly wide eyes. She glows with maternal pride as she exclaims, "Oh Donnie, that's so sweet!"

"Nicely done, Don! Didn't know ya had it in ya!" Casey applauds, a snicker escaping when he sees Don's flabbergasted expression.

His face turning a spectacular shade of fire engine red, Don stammers, "Uh, yeah, w-well…um, Jade was…she was…"

Honestly, Donnie Baby! I'm just asking for _one_ coherent sentence, is that too hard?

"Don't torture poor Don, it was my fault!" I cut in, sparing him the embarrassment. "And it's really nothing. When he said he didn't like it, I apologized and immediately backed off."

"He never said he didn't _like_ it–"

"Hush, Mikey!" I sigh in annoyance and the orange masked turtle closes his mouth with a pop. This is short lived, for mere seconds after Mikey has closed his inglorious gob, he starts humming "Kiss the Girl" from the Little Mermaid. I've never hated Disney before this moment, but now I'm cursing whoever wrote that _stupid song_.

"I don't see why yer getting' all worked up if it's _nothing_," Raph prods, replacing Mikey as my least favourite person in the world.

"I'm not," I lie. Ignoring the looks I receive, I add, "Now, I have some homework to do and little time to do it in. Thanks again, Casey and April!"

"No problem. It was nice meeting you, and I hope we'll see each other again. It's nice to have another girl around for a change!" April replies, smiling at me with a smidge of hope still in her eyes. She wants to know what happened, and I can tell that she is going to get me to spill at a later date when it is just the two of us. Hm, I suppose I could use her inevitable interrogation to my advantage and learn more about the boys. I'm nothing if not an opportunist.

I grin and assure her, "Don't worry, we'll definitely have to hang out. But now, biology awaits! See you later!"

I rush off to my room and only once the door is closed behind me do I allow myself a groan of frustration. Can't I complete just one interview? Forty, maybe fifty minutes without any interruptions, embarrassments or death threats is all I need! Is that too much to ask?

…Based on the fact that Mikey is now singing, "Donnie and Jade sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" at the top of his voice, I'll go out on a limb and say yes, it is indeed too much to ask.

_Seriously, why? WHY can't I have just ONE interview that is not awkward and/or brought to an early close?!  
Hooray for April and Casey, and thanks all for the interview questions! The next chapter should be coming eventually and it's going to be from Mikey's POV! YAY!  
Thanks for reading, and please review!_


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